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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24291442">Strike the Sky (Until the Sun Bows)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/zukkababey/pseuds/zukkababey'>zukkababey</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>we found love ‘verse [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Established Relationship, M/M, Teresa Agnes and Thomas (Maze Runner) are Twins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:07:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>46,728</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24291442</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/zukkababey/pseuds/zukkababey</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas feels anger churning in his gut, at the needless deaths that WICKED has already caused, at the deaths that WICKED is still going to cause. He's enraged that WICKED continuously threatens the lives of his friends, of his family. He’s never going to stop fighting back against WICKED; he didn’t stop in the Maze, and he won’t stop now. If revenge means passing their shuck Trials, to making it to wherever WICKED tells them to go, then so be it.</p><p>So be it.</p><p>-</p><p>Or, the direct sequel to We Found Love (In a Hopeless Place).</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Minho/Thomas (Maze Runner)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>we found love ‘verse [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1751689</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>93</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Strike the Sky (Until the Sun Bows)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I would like to thank everyone who left kudos or comments on the first installment of this series! I wasn't expecting much when I posted it, and you guys were so sweet and kind and encouraging! I hope you like the second part :)</p><p>This is really just a Scorch Trials rewrite with Thomas and Minho in an established relationship and Chuck is alive. It's also WAY longer than the first fic, uh. I don't know how that happened. Sorry :)</p><p>I think this should be generally easy to understand if you've only watched the movies, but I haven't watched the movies in YEARS, so I really could not tell you. </p><p>Title is from the song The Warpath by Conner Youngblood.</p><p>Hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Thomas wakes up the next morning slowly, cheek pressed against Minho’s shoulder, leg hitched up over his thigh. It’s extremely disconcerting to him for one long moment that he hasn’t woken up in the Glade, that he can’t hear the rustle of tree branches or birds chirping, before the events of the last 24 hours come flooding back into his brain. </p><p>They escaped the Maze. They’d finally done it. Thomas almost can’t believe it. Two years and they’re finally free. Or are they? </p><p>Thomas remembers with harsh clarity the woman who came up to Minho and Thomas and told them that they would bunk together. She somehow knew that they were together without ever being told. Thomas hopes like hell that he’s wrong, that maybe one of the boys said something that the woman overheard, but he can’t shake the feeling that this place isn’t as safe as they once thought. </p><p>He takes a deep breath in, exhaling warm air across Minho’s chest, and hugs him closer. For now, the room is dark, the other boys are sleeping peacefully, and whatever the next Trial is, it hasn’t started yet. Thomas is going to take full advantage of the slight reprieve. </p><p><em>Thomas?</em> a voice calls out to him in his head. <em>Are you awake?</em></p><p>He wishes he wasn’t, but he responds anyways. <em>Yeah. You doing okay?</em></p><p><em>As well as I can, I guess,</em> Teresa replies. </p><p>Thomas’ brows furrow. <em>What do you mean?</em> </p><p><em>I keep-</em> There’s a pause. Thomas counts three breaths before Teresa continues. <em>I can’t stop thinking about the Grievers</em>.</p><p>Thomas blinks into the inky darkness of the room, thinks about the boys that woke everyone with their nightmares in the early days of the Glade, thinks about Winston telling him one bonfire night <em>I just imagine that the animals are the Grievers, works like a charm</em>, thinks about how Minho was noticeably hesitant to go back into the Maze after they were locked in there for a night, but still managed to put his foot through the Door the next day. He thinks about himself, about the night Minho held him as he cried after the Grievers rolled off the Cliff and out of sight, how he wasn’t quite sure that he was actually alive, that he had actually faced down a Griever and survived. </p><p>Thomas can’t remember the last time he had a nightmare. At some point, things just stopped surprising him. But he knows that the memories will stick with him for the rest of his life, for the rest of <em>all</em> the boys’ lives, and he hates the Creators and WICKED all the more because of it.</p><p><em>It’ll go away,</em> he says, trying to project as much certainty as he can into the statement. <em>Just takes a little time, that’s all</em>. </p><p><em>You’re so full of it,</em> she says. </p><p>Thomas can’t help the small huff of laughter that escapes him, hoping he doesn’t wake Minho with the movement. <em>Yeah, I am,</em> Thomas agrees. <em>But it does get better. Eventually.</em> </p><p>Thomas feels rather than hears the sigh that escapes from Teresa. </p><p><em>We should really get some sleep,</em> Teresa says. <em>Especially if what you think is true, that this is just another Trial.</em> </p><p><em>You’re right,</em> says Thomas. </p><p>They say their goodnights, but don’t fully leave each other’s presence. He can still feel her somehow, as if she’s in the same room. It’s comforting, and he quickly falls back into a deep slumber. </p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>There’s screaming, shouts, a massive commotion from below him. </p><p>“Minho, Thomas!” A rough hand reaches out and shakes them to full consciousness. Newt’s face peeks over the edge of their bunk, eyes wide and hair mussed. “Something’s happening.”</p><p>Minho goes from sleepy and relaxed to tense and alert in a matter of seconds, releasing his hold on Thomas and springing off the side of the bunk bed, foregoing the ladder completely. He’s crowding around the broken window with the other boys, and Thomas wants to yell at him for stepping over broken glass and getting too close to the bars. </p><p>From the other side of the bars, thick fingers curl around the edges, a blotchy, burned face pressing up against them. Bloodshot eyes stare into the boys’ souls, and its open mouth releases a hoarse yell. The boys stumble back and away from the window, startled. </p><p>“I’m a Crank!” the person – thing? – wails, spittle flying out of its deformed mouth. There’s a series of guttural noises, like it’s trying to form words but doesn’t know how anymore. Then, in a creepy chant, the thing starts repeating over and over, “Kill me! Kill me! Kill me!”</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>As Thomas makes his way down the ladder, he tries to contact Teresa. </p><p>
  <em>Teresa? Teresa! </em>
</p><p>There’s no response. It feels different this time. The presence he felt as he fell asleep last night is no longer there, and there’s a part of his mind that feels empty. Somehow, he knows that something has happened to her, that she’s – gone. </p><p>He comes face to face with Minho, his face is grim, back straight. “Those Crank things are everywhere,” Minho tells him. He cuts a scathing glance to the green door that leads into the common area. “And no sign of the shanks who supposedly rescued us. Door’s locked.” Minho glances back to Thomas. His eyes say <em>I really didn’t want you to be, but you were right</em>. </p><p>Thomas nods. “I can’t reach Teresa,” he says, voice low. “I think– I think they did something to her.”</p><p>Minho’s jaw sets. “We’ll find her, Thomas.” He reaches out, gently grasping Thomas’ wrist, fingers soft and comforting. “We’ll find her.” Thomas has no choice but to believe him. </p><p>“Can you both stop making out for <em>one shuckin’ second</em> while we figure out what’s goin’ on?” Newt says.</p><p>Twin glares are sent in Newt’s direction, but Newt had developed immunity to them ages ago, and he just rolls his eyes. </p><p>“The door is locked,” Newt continues through the hysterical noises coming from the people outside, gritting his teeth. With a startling realization, Thomas remembers that Alby had sacrificed himself to the Grievers, that Newt is now their new leader. Newt looks like he knows he has to act the part. “Someone find me something to break the handle off!”</p><p>Eddie, a short boy who’s relatively new to the Glade, holds out a fire extinguisher, hands shaking slightly. Newt takes the red cylinder, and it only takes three hard whacks to the metal knob before it clatters to the ground. Ominously, the door swings outward a few inches, and the darkness beyond seems to seep into the room. Thomas suppresses the urge to shudder. </p><p>“Wait a minute,” Frypan says. “Are we sure we should go out there? Maybe the door was locked for a reason.”</p><p>Newt looks at Thomas, a question in his eyes. Thomas nods. </p><p>“Last night, did anybody tell the rescuers that Thomas and Minho are together?” </p><p>Frypan looks confused. “What does that have to do with anything?”</p><p>“Just tell me! Be honest. Did anybody tell the rescuers about them? Talk about them near em’?”</p><p>There’s a chorus of no’s and shaking heads. Nobody said anything. </p><p>Newt deflates, looking back to Thomas as if for him to take over. </p><p>Thomas steps forward. “Last night, one of the women came over and told us that Minho and I would be bunking together. And if none of you told them we were a couple, that means they already knew. And if they already knew...” He looks up at all the boys, some new faces, some old, but he meets each of their eyes in turn. “I think this is just another experiment. Another Trial.”</p><p>Silence descends over the room, the shouts from the Cranks seeming to fade into the background as the boys process this. Thomas can see despair, sadness, and anger on their faces. </p><p>Shuck it, he’s angry too. They were supposed to be <em>safe</em>.</p><p>“So, we have to go through the door, Frypan,” Thomas says. “They want us to.”</p><p>“Plus,” Minho adds. “You should’ve said something <em>before </em>we broke the handle off, you dumb shank.” He cuffs Frypan on the back of his head.</p><p>Frypan scowls at Minho, trying to flatten his hair back down. “I hate it when you’re right.”</p><p>Everyone seems to collectively turn back to the open door. The blackness seems wholly unnatural, and Thomas can’t help thinking about the technology WICKED has on their side, how they were able to turn the sun off and hide the Griever Hole in plain sight. He doesn’t want to walk in there, but he knows that they have to. </p><p>Minho takes in all the boys looking at the door, no one willing to go in first. “Shuck it,” he says. “I’ll go.” </p><p>Almost immediately, Minho’s body is swallowed up by the darkness, and Thomas is in there after him before he even registers his feet moving. He reaches out blindly, fingers catching in Minho’s belt loop, keeping them close and ensuring they won’t be separated. </p><p>Minho stops abruptly, a soft thud and a yelp echoing around the room. Thomas’ heart jumps into his throat, and he automatically reaches out for Minho’s waist, thinking that he’s somehow been injured. </p><p>“Watch out, guys,” Minho says, voice wavering slightly, but trying to be steady. “There’s something... weird hanging from the ceiling.” There’s a creaking groan from above them, like Minho bumped into an old low-hanging chandelier. Thomas wishes with his whole being that it’s a low-hanging chandelier.</p><p>Minho shuffles to the left and continues forward, Thomas following. As they step forward, Thomas feels the brush of something against his cheek, his shoulder. It’s oddly shaped, covered in fabric. He can’t stop the shiver that courses through him.</p><p>“Is someone finding a light?” someone calls from behind them. </p><p>“That’s where I’m headed,” Newt responds. “I think I remember where the switches are.”</p><p>Minho and Thomas continue forging ahead, and Thomas’ eyes are just starting to adjust when light is thrown into their faces. </p><p>Thomas blinks into the sudden light, jumping at the brush of something against the side of his arm. He looks up at the thing that touched him, breath escaping through his open mouth in a <em>whoosh</em>. Is that – is that a <em>person</em>?</p><p>Thomas looks around the room, forces himself to take in the horror scene in front of him. People hang limply from the ceiling, strung up by their necks, skin blotchy, purple, and pale. Their eyes are all open, glazed over and unseeing. God, they must have been hanging here for hours.</p><p>Thomas stumbles away from the one he had knocked into, enough to recognize the woman’s clothes, her hair. It’s the same woman from last night, the one who had told Minho and Thomas their bunk assignments. And now she’s dead.</p><p>His mind immediately goes to Teresa. If all these people are dead, and Thomas can’t reach her with his thoughts, then... No. Thomas refuses to think anything has happened to her, but can’t help looking over all the dead bodies, making sure none of them could be Teresa. WICKED wouldn’t reunite them only to murder her a couple of weeks later. Right?</p><p>Thomas catches Minho’s eye. “Teresa.”</p><p>Something in Minho’s eyes hardens, solidifies. “Listen up!” Minho calls out to the group. “We need to find Teresa!”</p><p>The other boys look around the common room, as if finally realizing she isn’t among them already. Thomas can feel anger rise like a living, breathing thing in the center of his chest, and he has to take conscious breaths to try to force it back down. He tries to remember where their rescuers – or could they even be called that anymore? – had brought Teresa last night. Upstairs, was it not?</p><p>Thomas doubles back the way he came, dodging bodies and tables, holding his breath against the putrid stink of decaying flesh. He comes upon the flight of stairs, taking the steps two at a time. He reaches for the doorknob of the single yellow door off the landing and is barely surprised when it doesn’t budge.</p><p>“Someone bring me that fire extinguisher!” Thomas shouts down the stairwell, hoping somebody will hear him. As he turns back to the door, he notices something he didn’t before – a clear, plastic display attached to the wall, a sheet of paper with neat font pressed into it.</p><p>
  <em>Teresa Agnes. Group A, Subject A1. The Betrayer.</em>
</p><p>For some reason, Thomas’ brain snags on Teresa’s last name. <em>Agnes</em>. It seems so out of place that it throws him for a loop. Is that– Could that be his last name too? His <em>real </em>last name?</p><p>At the sound of incoming footsteps up the stairs, Thomas shakes off the distraction and turns back to the door. He bangs on the yellow surface, the wood door rattling in its frame. “Teresa! Are you in there?” He bangs some more. “Open up!” Faintly, Thomas can hear movement within the room, and some relief seeps back into him. She must be in there. Everything’s okay.</p><p>“Here.” The fire extinguisher is thrust into Thomas’ view. As he takes it, he looks up at the boy who brought it to him. Chuck.</p><p>“Thanks,” Thomas says.</p><p>Another three hard clangs of metal on metal, and then the handle falls to the floor. Thomas throws away the extinguisher, pushing open the door, Chuck hot on his heels.</p><p>Thomas is expecting Teresa to say something about his impatience or his lack of tact, but instead comes face to face with another boy. He’s wearing the same bedclothes that had been given to all the Gladers the previous night, his olive skin gleaming in the low light, dark hair cut short.</p><p>Chuck looks at him in confusion. “Who are you?”</p><p>The boy looks back, forehead creasing. “Who are <em>you?</em>”</p><p>“I asked first, shuckface,” is Chuck’s reply. Thomas reaches out to lay a hand on Chuck’s shoulder, hoping the comment doesn’t rile the boy up any further.</p><p>“I’m Thomas. This is Chuck.”</p><p>The boy shifts, but he understands a peace offering when he sees it. “My name is Aris.”</p><p>“Okay, Aris, there’s supposed to be a girl in here,” Thomas says. “Teresa? This is her room.”</p><p>“I ain’t never heard of a Teresa in my life,” Aris tells them. “They brought me to this room last night. I’ve been here the whole time.”</p><p>“They?” questions Thomas. “Who’s <em>they?</em>”</p><p>Aris shrugs. “I don’t know, man, the huge group of people with guns that rescued us.”</p><p>“Rescued you?” Chucks asks. “From where?”</p><p>For a moment, Aris is quiet, eyes on the floor, deep and haunted, an expression that Thomas knows intimately. “The Maze, man. The Maze.”</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>Thomas and Chuck manage to get Aris downstairs and into the boys’ dorm room for the Gathering, the door as shut as it can get to ward off the terrible smell from the common room. In his hands, Newt holds the small piece of paper that Thomas had taken from the wall display, the one labelling Teresa as the Betrayer. Thomas doesn’t know what to make of it, so after a quick shake of his head to Minho – <em>couldn’t find her </em>– and a round of speedy introductions of the boys, he passed the note to Newt, hoping he would be able to make sense of it.</p><p>“<em>Aris</em>, right?” Minho says from beside Thomas. The rest of the boys are sitting on the dismantled bunk beds, barely enough room for all twenty-eight of them. “Talk, dude. Tell us everything.”</p><p>Aris looks startled. “No way,” he says. “You go first.”</p><p>“Oh yeah?” Minho scoffs, eyebrow raised. “How about we all take turns punching you in the <em>face</em>–”</p><p>“<em>Minho,</em>” Thomas says, nudging him sharply with an elbow to his side.</p><p>Minho points to Aris menacingly. “No, listen to me. This shank could be one of the Creators, put here to test us or some klunk. He could’ve killed those people out there!” Minho looks Aris dead in the eye. “I’m sick of you acting all high and mighty when we outnumber you by <em>a lot</em>. You should speak first.”</p><p>Thomas resists the urge to bury his face in his hands. Aris will never open up if Minho terrifies him, and Minho is smarter than this.</p><p>Newt sighs, looking over at Aris. “Minho’s kinda got a point. Just tell us what you meant about escaping from the buggin’ Maze.”</p><p>With the air of man sentenced to death row, Aris opens his mouth and tells them about his version of the Maze. Apparently, he was one boy sent up into a maze full of girls. He was the last one, and he triggered the Ending, same as Teresa.</p><p>“It’s the same shuck experiment,” Minho says, voice soft, malice from earlier completely dissolved. “Just with girls instead of boys. WICKED built two mazes, ran two different tests!”</p><p>Thomas swallows, hesitant about asking the next question, but he needs to know. The memories the Serum gave him had told him that WICKED looked for identical twins for the telepathy experiment, that identical twins worked best. But like him and Teresa, Aris and another girl would be a fraternal twin pair. Why would WICKED lie about that? Thomas’ head hurts. “Could you...” he pauses before forging ahead. The boys already know about the telepathic link between him and Teresa, what’s one more? “Could you speak to one of the other girls telepathically? Like, in your mind?”</p><p>Aris’ eyes widen, like someone has just told him the secret to the universe, one he’s spent ages trying to figure out.</p><p>
  <em>Can you hear me?</em>
</p><p>The phrase rings out so clearly that Thomas thinks for a moment that Aris spoke aloud, but no – his lips didn’t move.</p><p>Thomas hesitates. Swallows again. <em>Yes.</em></p><p><em>They killed her, </em>Aris says in his mind. <em>They killed my sister.</em></p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>“Stop looking at each other like you just fell in love,” Minho says.</p><p>“What’s going on?” Newt asks.</p><p>Thomas doesn’t take his eyes off Aris. “<em>Who</em> killed her?” Thomas demands.</p><p>“Whoa, killed who?” Minho says, but then his voice gets low and ferocious, fixing Aris with a death glare. “Teresa?”</p><p>“No, his sister,” Thomas replies. “His version of Teresa. He can speak telepathically too. Who was it? Who killed her?”</p><p>Aris shakes his head miserably, eyes watering. “I don’t know. There was this other girl, after we had escaped, and I think they somehow made her kill Rachel. I– I don’t know. But–” he gets choked up, pausing for a moment to swallow past the lump in his throat. “Rachel’s dead. She’s gone.” The tears finally spill over, but Aris doesn’t wipe them away.</p><p>Thomas makes eye contact with Minho, the unspoken acknowledgement that Jared’s knife had meant to kill Thomas passing between them, that the only reason Thomas is still with them is because Minho was quick enough to throw his club that knocked the blade off its course. Thomas could’ve <em>died</em>, just like Rachel. He reaches out for Minho’s hand, their fingers interlacing, squeezing tight. He’s alive right now because of Minho, and Thomas is immeasurably grateful.</p><p>Aris doesn’t comment on the handholding, just finally wipes away the tears without an ounce of shame. Thomas decides in that moment he likes this guy.</p><p>“Look,” Aris says. “I don’t really know anything. I’d only been there about a week or so before we escaped. There were girls who had been there for <em>two</em> <em>years</em>. About thirty of us made it out, they put us in a gym, and then eventually brought me here. Then this stick,” Aris gestures at Thomas, “barged into my room shouting about some chick named Teresa.”</p><p>“<em>Stick?</em>” Minho repeats.</p><p>Aris looks down, mouth twisting. “It was just some word the other girls used.”</p><p>Minho looks over at Thomas, half grinning. Looks like the girls in the other Maze had created some of their own colourful vocabulary. Thomas doesn’t know why he finds that so entertaining.</p><p>It’s then that Chuck speaks up. “What’s that thing on the side of your neck? Looks like a tattoo.”</p><p>As Thomas looks closer at Aris, he notices the smudge of black across the base of his neck, starting at the hollow of his collarbone and stretching around to his back.</p><p>Newt volunteers to look, pulling back the collar of Aris’ nightshirt to reveal the lettering stamped into his skin. <em>Property of WICKED. Group B, Subject B1. The Partner.</em></p><p>“What the klunk is <em>that </em>supposed to mean?” Minho asks.</p><p>“What does it <em>say?</em>” Aris asks, craning his neck to try to see the words for himself. “I swear it wasn’t there last night. I took a shower, looked in the mirror. Nothing was there.”</p><p>Minho looks him dead in the eye, disbelief plain on his face. “So WICKED tattooed you in the middle of the night without you noticing? Yeah, right, dude.”</p><p>Aris rushes off to the bathroom, presumably to see the lettering himself.</p><p>“I don’t trust one word out of his shuck mouth,” Minho whispers to Thomas on his way back to the bed. As he sits, his shirt twists in such a way that reveals black lettering across the side of his neck.</p><p>For a moment, Thomas is too stunned to move. “Minho,” he says softly. He and Minho had slept together the whole night. He thinks they both would have noticed if someone had snuck into their bunk in the middle of the night and tattooed his neck.</p><p>Minho takes his tone. “What?”</p><p>Thomas reaches out and pulls the collar of his shirt back, thumbing the black words inked into Minho’s skin. “You have one too.”</p><p>“What’s it say?” Minho asks, voice rushed and panicked.</p><p>Thomas tells him. <em>Property of WICKED. Group A, Subject A7. The Leader.</em></p><p>There’s a couple of breaths between them as Minho tries to process that, voices from the other boys ringing out as they learn what their own tattoos say – <em>A-thirteen, A-ten, A-nineteen, A-three</em>. “You, what about you?”</p><p>Thomas pulls down the neckline of his own pajama shirt, angling his neck so Minho can see better. He watches Minho read the words to himself, face paling.</p><p>“What?” Thomas asks. Minho still hasn’t said anything. “Minho! What does it say?”</p><p>“You’re A-two,” Minho says distantly. His eyes are still glued to the tattoo, so Thomas knows there’s more.</p><p>“What else?” Thomas asks when Minho isn’t any more forthcoming.</p><p>“It doesn’t call you anything. It– It just says... ‘To be killed by Group B.’”</p><p>Minho looks up then, and Thomas thinks this is the first time he has seen pure, unadulterated fear in Minho’s eyes. Minho releases the fabric so it’s once again covering the marking, his expression smoothing back over. “Keep that covered,” Minho whispers, and Thomas nods, agreeing.</p><p>“What’s mine say?” Newt comes up to them, his neck on show.</p><p>Minho tells him – <em>A-five, the Glue</em> – and Thomas turns to look for Chuck. He finds him in the bathroom next to Aris, reading the words backwards in the mirror.</p><p>“A-four,” Thomas says. “The Accessory.”</p><p>Chuck turns to him, eyes wide. “What does that even mean? Like an accessory to <em>murder?</em>”</p><p>Thomas rolls his eyes. “I don’t think you’re going to be an accessory to murder, Chuck.”</p><p>“If you say so,” Chuck replies. “What’s yours say?”</p><p>Thomas has to physically restrain himself from reaching up and touching his neck, balling his hands into fists at his sides. “A-two. No special title like you, though,” he says with a forced laugh, cuffing Chuck on the shoulder. He feels bad about lying, but he’s wary of Aris, who’s still focused on himself in the mirror, prodding at the tattoo on his neck. The <em>Group B </em>stands out on his skin, taunting Thomas from afar.</p><p>Chuck lets his hands drop from his neck, stepping away from the mirror to stand in front of Thomas, curly brown hair mussed and face flushed. The young, pudgy kid that had been sent up in the beginning of the Maze is nowhere to be seen in him now, and Thomas is suddenly glad Chuck made it here with them.</p><p>“This sucks,” Chuck says.</p><p>Thomas can’t stop the snort of laughter that escapes him. What a perfectly <em>Chuck</em> thing to say. Thomas wraps his arm around Chuck’s neck, messing up his hair even further.</p><p>Chuck is trying to escape, laughing, when suddenly a noise rips through the general calm of the bathroom. It only takes Thomas a second to place the sound.</p><p>“The Greenie alarm,” Chuck breathes. They push their way out of the bathroom, Aris close behind, stumbling into the mess of boys.</p><p>“It’s the bloody Newbie alarm!” Newt is saying.</p><p>“I know!” Minho calls back, face pinched as he looks around for the source of the clanging alarm, obviously hating the sound.</p><p>Frypan is tugging and pushing at the door, but it isn’t budging. Other boys are sitting or standing around, faces blank and tired.</p><p>As abruptly as it started, the alarm cuts off, leaving a harsh ringing in everyone’s ears. Thomas tries not to reach up and rub his ears – he doubts it’ll help.</p><p>“I swear, if we have more slinthead Newbies to take care of...” Newt trails off.</p><p>“Where’s the Box in this shuck place?” Minho asks sarcastically, the corner of his mouth curled into a smirk.</p><p>Frypan steps back from the door as it swings open a few inches, darkness emanating from the common room like it did earlier in the day. Thomas wants to roll his eyes. He can’t summon up any feeling other than distant anger and frustration. He wishes WICKED would just get to the damn <em>point </em>already. He’s sick of playing their games.</p><p>Thomas makes his way to the door, pushing past the other boys, doesn’t even look backwards before stepping into the darkness.</p><p>“Thomas!” Minho whisper yells, managing to get a grip on his arm before he can get too far.</p><p>“Slim it nice and calm, babe,” he says. “I just want this to be over. Gonna find the lights. Give me a second.”</p><p>Minho releases his hold, letting Thomas continue further into the common room. Thomas runs his hand along the wall until he feels a raised section, pressing the buttons there with a series of clicks. As the fluorescent lights flicker to life, Thomas turns around, watching the boys spill into the common room.</p><p>At first, he can’t seem to determine what’s different, but then he notices the smell. It’s gone. And– the dead bodies. They’re gone too, as if they had never been there to begin with.</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>Three days. Three long, tortuous days with no food.</p><p>They had water – nothing was wrong with the plumbing in the bathrooms – but no food.</p><p>The boys spent the first day exploring the complex, searching for anything, <em>anything, </em>that could be an exit. No such luck. There was only the common room, the flight of stairs, Teresa’s-turned-Aris’ room (and it really was Aris’ room now – after the disappearing act with the bodies, Minho noticed that the wall-mounted display now said: <em>Aris Jones. Group B, Subject B1. The Partner.</em>), and the larger dorm room the Gladers slept in. Fresh clothes were found in the dressers – some said that they had been moved, but no one could tell for sure – and eventually they realized that the Cranks had stopped screaming, that brick walls had been erected outside of the windows.</p><p>Thomas tries to contact Teresa again, sits down in her old, empty room, puts his head between his knees, and resolves to keep trying until he finally reaches her.</p><p>
  <em>Teresa! Where are you? Are you okay? Teresa, please, just answer me. Teresa!</em>
</p><p><em>Get out of my head! </em>The sensation of the shout in his head ripples through him in a sickening chill, but relief that she’s alive outweighs any other emotion.</p><p>
  <em>Teresa! Are you alright?</em>
</p><p><em>Who are you? Stop talking to me! </em>There’s no familiarity there, no warmth like there was previously, and Thomas is so, so confused.</p><p>
  <em>Teresa, it’s me. Where’d they take you? Please tell me if you’re alright.</em>
</p><p><em>Shut up! </em>Something like a heavy door slams shut in his brain, leaving it cold and empty. It’s like when he tried to contact her last, how he just <em>knew </em>that she was gone.</p><p>Somehow, Teresa doesn’t know who he is anymore. The thought stings more than he thought it would.</p><p>Thomas wants to make sense of it all, but damn, he’s hungry.</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>The second day, with nothing left to do but wait, Minho, Thomas, Newt, and Chuck all sit on one of the dorm room beds.</p><p>“Kinda reminds me of the very beginning of the Maze,” Chuck says quietly, picking at a thread on the bed cover.</p><p>Thomas rolls his head off Minho’s shoulder to look over at Chuck, his lack of energy making the movement feel monumental. “What d’ya mean?”</p><p>“We all woke up in the Box, right? Everything was shucked from the start,” Chuck begins. “But once we got to the Glade, we all realized that there was a <em>reason</em> we were there, that we had to make the best of it. Just feels like that all over again, I guess.”</p><p>“You guys woke up in the Box together?” Newt asks.</p><p>Minho looks over to Newt. “We never told you that?”</p><p>Newt’s shoulders twitch, like he was about to shrug but then decided it was too much effort. “Guess not.”</p><p>It’s quiet then, and Thomas thinks about George, and Nick, and Alby. About Dave, Zart, Ben, Spencer. Aaron. Even Jared. He wants to feel angry on their behalf, that they died all because of some shuck experiment made by WICKED for some unbeknownst reason, but he can’t summon up anything except indifference. He’s tired.</p><p>“They sent us to the Maze for a reason,” Minho says. “And this is no different. They won’t let us <em>starve </em>here, what would be the point in that?”</p><p>Thomas makes an agreeable sound, pressing his cheek back to Minho’s shoulder. There’s nothing they can do right now. He’s going to take a nap.</p><p>Thomas takes a lot of naps nowadays. He wakes up groggy, but alert enough to remember the strange dreams of himself as a younger boy, of a smaller version of Teresa, of his mother, his father. The dreams – or are they memories? – sometimes feature him and Teresa as older children, flashes of green hazmat suits and snippets of conversation. <em>Are you sure their brains can handle this? </em>A pause. <em>We have to go deeper. The Flare is rooted deep inside them – isn’t it fascinating?</em></p><p>He sleeps fitfully.</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>On the third day, Minho shakes Thomas awake, but Thomas pushes away his insistent hands and rolls over.</p><p>“Thomas,” Minho says, sitting down in the space Thomas inadvertently made. “C’mon, babe, wake up.” He reaches over, dangling something in front of Thomas’ face.</p><p>For a moment, Thomas thinks he’s still dreaming, a floating apparition of precious red fruit floating in his hunger-induced vision. He wiggles his fingers up to the illusion, startling when he’s able to hold the apple in his hand with no problem.</p><p>He looks over to Minho, barely managing to sit up. “Wha–”</p><p>“Don’t ask me where the shuck it came from, just eat it.” Minho takes a bite of his own apple.</p><p>Thomas does, finishing it core and all before Minho can finish his.</p><p>“Hey, slow down. Shanks are throwing up all over the place because they ate too much. Slim it.” Minho hands him another apple.</p><p>Thomas eats this one slower, resting his forehead against Minho’s back, relief and energy coursing through his veins. “I really thought we might die here,” Thomas says.</p><p>“Don’t speak too soon,” Minho laughs shortly. “You should go see our new friend.”</p><p>Thomas lifts his head to look directly at Minho, eyebrows raised. Minho juts his chin in the direction of the common room.</p><p>He crosses the room and opens the door to see a man wearing a full white suit sitting with his feet propped up at a desk. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Thomas says, voice flat.</p><p>“The Rat Man looks pretty dapper, don’t he?” Minho says, not even bothering to get up off the bed. “Maybe once we’re through these Trials I’ll be able to get one for myself.” Thomas takes a step towards the man in the suit, and Minho adds, “Don’t try goin’ out there, he’s behind some kind of invisible wall like <em>the shuck coward that he is!” </em>Minho shouts the last part loud enough that Rat Man looks up to Thomas in disdain, licking a finger to turn the page of whatever he’s reading.</p><p>“Muzzle your dog, Thomas,” Rat Man says.</p><p>Thomas sneers at the newcomer. He doesn’t want to look at the man anymore, his darting eyes and comb over hair making Thomas feel sick to his stomach. He shuts the door and sinks into the mattress next to Minho. “Has he said anything?”</p><p>“Some klunk about not being able to tell us anything about ‘Phase Two of the Trials,’” Minho does sarcastic air quotes, “for another...” Minho glances down to his watch. “Forty-seven minutes. I set a countdown.”</p><p>Forty-five minutes later, the boys sit on the other side of the invisible barrier, waiting for Rat Man to finally tell them what’s going on.</p><p>As Minho’s watch starts beeping, Rat Man finally looks up at the gathered group of boys, giving them a cursory look over. “Thank you for all gathering here in such an orderly fashion, I would hate having to repeat myself.”</p><p>“Why are you behind that wall!” Minho shouts, just to be belligerent.</p><p>Newt reaches behind Thomas to punch Minho in the arm. “Shut it!”</p><p>Rat Man continues as if Minho hasn’t spoken.  He tells them that they’re all here because they survived against all odds, that everything that has been done to them was for the experiment, to judge their responses to the Variables. Through the Maze Trial, they have played a part in the salvation of the human race.</p><p>“This dude is shucked in the head,” Minho whispers. “No way solving a Maze can somehow save the human race.”</p><p>“Shhh.” Thomas nudges him, wishing he would stop interrupting the explanation, no matter how unbelievable it is.</p><p>The Rat Man continues on. Apparently, he’s a part of WICKED, a coalition created by surviving nations of the world in order to combat the disease unleashed by the sun flares. He tells the boys that WICKED has unlimited capital and technology, things they couldn’t even dream of. He explains that WICKED has the ability to manipulate their brains somehow, that they shouldn’t believe what they see, or even what they <em>can’t </em>see. Everything WICKED’s done has been to find a cure for the Flare, and now it’s time for Phase Two to be implemented. It’s time for things to get difficult.</p><p>Then the Rat Man tells them how Phase Two of the Trials will play out. At six o’clock the next morning, something called a Flat Trans will appear on the wall, and five minutes later, it will close. He makes it very clear that they are all to enter within the five-minute time span.</p><p>“As soon as you enter the grey square, the Trials will have begun,” Rat Man explains. “The rules are simple – there are no rules. You just need to find your way to open air, head due north for one hundred miles, and make it to the Safe Haven within two weeks’ time. We’ve infected you with the Flare to give you a bigger incentive to work with us. Once you reach the Safe Haven, you will be given the cure. If you don’t make it, you’ll die.”</p><p>At Rat Man’s pause, the boys erupt with questions, asking about what a Flat Trans is, what the symptoms of the Flare are, about the disappearing dead bodies. Thomas can’t believe the boys think they’re actually going to get any answers out of this guy. Thomas looks Rat Man dead in the eye, hating him. Hating WICKED. They stole Teresa, did something to her brain to make her forget him. It’s not a burning hate like he might have harboured once, at the very beginning of the Maze. It’s smoldering, latent, and runs deep.</p><p>The Rat Man looks back at Thomas, eyebrows raised, mouth curled into a slight grin as if asking <em>and what are you going to do about it?</em></p><p>“Everyone shut up!” Minho yells over the commotion. The boys fall silent, all rambling questions directed to Rat Man immediately cut off. “This shank ain’t tellin’ us anything, so quit askin’ dumb questions.”</p><p>Rat Man tips his head towards Minho, either in thanks or acknowledgement. “Perhaps you don’t need to be muzzled after all.”</p><p>Minho bares his teeth. “Don’t be too careful, I bite.”</p><p>Right before the man disappears in a whirlwind of smoke, along with his chair and desk and stacks of paper, he says, “Don’t think about <em>not</em> entering the Flat Trans. Any boy who decides not to go through will be executed, and in quite a horrific way. Wouldn’t wish it on anybody, let alone you all. Better get preparing. You’ve got twelve hours.”</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>Under the careful watch of Frypan, the food is packaged up, wrapped in bedsheets. Water is tied into plastic bags, secured with the shorn curtains. Thomas watches it all with the distant thought that it feels exactly like their last night in the Glade, before they all ventured into the Maze to escape.</p><p>Feels like forever ago now, and not just a few days.</p><p>Thomas enters the dorm room to Minho and Newt talking in hushed tones. They look up at Thomas coming in, Thomas raising his eyebrows, but the other boys mutually decide they don’t care if Thomas overhears and carry on their conversation. It’s not like Minho won’t tell him directly afterwards, anyways.</p><p>“The Gladers need to be sure, Minho. They deserve a leader they can count on.”</p><p>“What are you talking about, that’s <em>you</em>,” Minho retorts.</p><p>“You think I forgot your pretty tattoo, there?” Newt asks, reaching up to pull down the neckline of Minho’s shirt. Minho slaps his hand away, irritated. “Mine sure as hell doesn’t say <em>leader </em>on it, slinthead.”</p><p>Minho raises a palm to the side of his neck. “The markings aren’t some kind of– some kind of <em>prophecy</em>, Newt!” His gaze flickers to Thomas for a split second, but the movement is enough for Newt to catch it.</p><p>Newt turns, eyes narrowed, nodding to Thomas. “What’s your tattoo say?”</p><p>“Property of Wicked. Group A, Subject A2.”</p><p>Newt crosses his arms, shifting his weight to his better foot. “And?”</p><p>Thomas steps backwards so his back hits the door, closing it with his own bodyweight.</p><p>“To be killed by Group B.”</p><p>Whatever Newt was expecting, he very clearly wasn’t expecting that. The hard expression on his face falters, wavering slightly into confusion and fear. His gaze drops to the floor before he draws himself back up again, turning to Minho.</p><p>“If you step up as leader, that doesn’t automatically mean that Thomas is gonna be murdered by Group B,” Newt tries to reason.</p><p>“Doesn’t it?” Minho says, half hysterical. “Jared was supposed to kill Thomas that day we escaped from the Maze, Aris’ story about Rachel proves it. Somehow, I was able to stop it. WICKED’s just correcting my intervention!”</p><p>“We don’t know that for sure,” Thomas says, moving away from the door. He steps into Minho’s space, palms resting on the side of his neck, thumbs caressing the line of his jaw. Under the gentle press of rough fingertips against caramel skin, Minho’s muscles slowly relax. His shoulders sag, hands coming up to hold Thomas’s wrists. “You’d be a great leader, babe. Don’t base your decision off the shuckin’ writing on my neck. I’m gonna be fine.”</p><p>Minho blinks once, twice, then looks over to Newt.</p><p>“Please,” Newt says. “I’m not cut out for this, not after Alby–” he cuts himself off, his crossed arms looking more like he’s trying to hold himself together.</p><p>“Hey,” Minho says, stepping away from Thomas to pull Newt into a hug. “I get it, okay? I’ll do it.” Minho’s hand comes up to rest on the back of his head. Thomas joins the hug, squeezing them tight.</p><p>When they all draw back, no one mentions the small wet spot on the shoulder of Minho’s shirt where Newt had pressed his face.</p><p>Newt swallows. “Good that,” he says, voice rough, then walks back out into the common room.</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>It’s nine o’clock, and all the boys are tucked into bed, but Thomas doesn’t think any of them are asleep.</p><p>Thomas lays on his side, Minho curled around him, their fingers interlaced over Thomas’ stomach. Minho’s breath is hot on the back of his neck, and everything is quiet, save for a few whispers from the other boys, the rustle of sheets and the creak of mattresses.</p><p>He thinks about what Rat Man had told them, about not to trust anything they see, and wonders if that includes his own dreams. He reflects on how they have apparently been given the Flare, but he and all the other boys feel fine. Was Rat Man lying to get them to cooperate? He wishes he could just trust what he’s been told, but how can he, when the man himself told him not to believe his own eyes? The unease Thomas feels is going to drive him insane. He’s just glad that he has Minho to count on, and Newt and Chuck. He knows that Minho’s going to be a good leader.</p><p>But even if Minho is going to be the best leader the Gladers have seen, it does nothing to quell the increasing worry he feels at entering the Flat Trans tomorrow morning.</p><p>The task the Rat Man gave them seems simple enough, but he knows they’re going to be ill prepared on their two-week journey, and he has no idea what to expect once they pass through the Flat Trans.</p><p>He feels anger churning in his gut, at the needless deaths that WICKED has already caused, at the deaths that WICKED is still going to cause. Thomas isn’t so naïve to think that all twenty-eight of them are going to survive to reach the Safe Haven, and he’s so shuckin’ enraged that WICKED continuously threatens the lives of his friends, of his <em>family</em>. He’s never going to stop fighting back against WICKED; he didn’t stop in the Maze, and he won’t stop now. If revenge means passing their shuck Trials, to making it to wherever WICKED tells them to go, then so be it.</p><p>So be it.</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>Thomas wakes up early, way before their alarms are set to go off at five o’clock, and he senses an opportunity.</p><p>Minho is still spooning him, so Thomas turns over in his arms, sidling up close. He noses up the column of Minho’s throat, pressing kisses to the sweet skin there, sleep-warm and soft. Slinging a leg up over Minho’s thigh, Thomas starts slowly grinding up against him, hands wandering up and under his shirt.</p><p>Minho finally comes to, mumbling out a <em>wha–? </em>and Thomas silences him with a kiss. Minho kisses him back without even opening up his eyes, lips and tongue clumsy with sleep.</p><p>“What do you say…” Thomas whispers, licking and sucking over any skin he can find, “we go upstairs…” he lets his hand trail lower, over the curve of Minho’s back, under the waistband of his sleep pants, “and put that shower to good use before we all die gruesome deaths?” Thomas palms over Minho’s hip, moving his hand to fully cup Minho’s cock and squeezing.</p><p>Minho’s eyes fly open, hips bucking forward. “Shuckin’ hell, Thomas,” he bites out, crushing their lips together.</p><p>“C’mon,” Thomas breathes, pulling away, ducking into the common room.</p><p>Minho is right behind him, both of them stumbling up the stairs and into Aris’ empty room. Aris hadn’t felt comfortable sleeping up there alone, so he decided to sleep with the other Gladers in the large dorm room downstairs. Thomas heads straight into the adjoining bathroom, backtracking slightly when he notices that Minho isn’t following him. Instead, Minho is standing in the center of the room, eyes fixed on the single bed wedged into the corner of bright blue walls.</p><p>Thomas gestures to the bathroom, exasperated at Minho’s lack of movement, and Minho finally looks over at him, grin downright salacious. “You know,” Minho says, pulling off his shirt and kicking off his pants. He swaggers over to Thomas, pulling him flush against him. “We’ve never done it on a bed before.”</p><p>Thomas peers over Minho’s shoulder at the lonely bed, swallowing thickly. After the two boys had gotten together back in the Maze, they had been quickly banned from using the only bed in the Glade for nefarious purposes, and they had never wanted to go against that rule and risk angering Nick or Alby. Once, they had considered one of the beds in the Med-jack house, but the smell of antiseptic and Clint’s feet didn’t really lend itself to sexy times.</p><p>“Well,” Thomas says. “When in Rome.”</p><p>Minho smiles into their next kiss, ridding Thomas of his shirt and pulling impatiently at his sleep shorts.</p><p>They fall into bed together, laughing and kissing, hands moving on their own accord. “You know WICKED is probably watching us right now?” Thomas says, breath hitching as Minho kisses down the length of his neck, biting at the point where his neck meets his shoulder.</p><p>“How’s that any different from when we were back in the Glade?” Minho asks, sitting up, slowly grinding down against Thomas in a way that has him wanting to swear up at the ceiling.</p><p>“My, oh my, <em>Minho</em>, I had no idea you were an exhibitionist,” Thomas gasps.</p><p>Minho growls playfully, leaning back in for a bruising kiss, teeth sharp and tongue curling around Thomas’ indecently.</p><p>“I’d kill for lube,” Thomas pants out as Minho reaches down to wrap a hand around both of their cocks. Minho had licked his palm, but it wasn’t enough.</p><p>“No Beetle Blades to ask for help now,” Minho teases.</p><p>“That was <em>one </em>time!” Thomas protests, widening his legs to give Minho more room as he shuffles further down. He gasps as Minho wraps his lips around his cock with no hesitation, tongue flat against the underside, and Thomas can feel himself sink deeper into the mattress, limbs going boneless. There really was something to be said about having sex in a bed, Thomas can’t believe they’d been missing out for so long. “Besides, the Creators put the damn jumbo size bottle of lube in the Box the next supply day, so I mean... who’re the real winners here?”</p><p>Minho huffs a laugh, warm breath fanning across his groin. Minho knows very intimately<em> exactly </em>how they had put that bottle to good use.</p><p>Thomas moans at the feeling of Minho’s mouth on him. He wants to run his fingers through that thick, dark hair, but knows it would only get him annoyed, and– <em>Actually</em>, Thomas thinks with a raised eyebrow. <em>On second thought</em>.</p><p>Thomas combs his fingers through Minho’s hair, pushing it back off his forehead, and is rewarded with a glare. He grins down at Minho. Thomas has to say, Minho’s glare just isn’t as effective when his lips are wrapped around Thomas’ cock. Minho bats away Thomas’ hand, which Thomas allows with a laugh.</p><p>“I love you,” Thomas says, huge smile still on his face.</p><p>Minho pulls off Thomas’ cock with a truly obscene sound, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He runs his fingers through his hair, trying to fix any wayward strands. “I wish you weren’t such an annoying shank,” he responds.</p><p>Thomas manages to flip them over, straddling Minho’s hips. His palms are flat over Minho’s chest, his stomach, his hipbones, as he moves lazily down his body. “Would an annoying shank do this?” He gives Minho the best bedroom eyes he can muster, leaning down to wrap his lips around the tip of Minho’s cock.</p><p>“He would if his name was Thomas,” Minho says, jaw clenched with the effort of not bucking up into Thomas’ mouth. He breathes out harshly, fingers clenching the sheets. Thomas reaches up to lace their fingers together, and Minho squeezes his hand. “Yeah, yeah,” Minho says, smirking down at Thomas. “I love you too.”</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>The two boys clean each other up in the shower, and Thomas convinces Minho to go for round two, forcing them to clean off <em>again </em>before making it back downstairs just as everyone’s watches start beeping, signalling one hour until the Flat Trans is meant to appear.</p><p>Newt looks at them as he walks out of the dorm room, dressed and ready to go. Minho sits at the picnic style table properly, starting in on his breakfast, Thomas sitting directly on the table beside him. Newt takes in their dopey expressions, flushed faces, and wet hair before saying, “I’m glad <em>somebody </em>got their jollies in before we all <em>die</em>.”</p><p>“Hmm?” Thomas says, grinning over at Newt.</p><p>Newt just shakes his head. “You lot are disgusting. <em>Disgusting.</em>”</p><p>Aris emerges from the room next, towelling his damp hair and then throwing it on an empty table. “I hear you made good use of my empty room.”</p><p>“What, you want a thank you, or somethin’?” Minho asks.</p><p>“No,” Aris says. He cuts a glance over to Thomas with a smirk. <em>But it would be nice.</em></p><p>Thomas snorts. <em>Don’t hold your breath.</em></p><p>Minho looks between Aris and Thomas, a single eyebrow raised.</p><p>“He said a thank you would be nice,” Thomas relays.</p><p>“Don’t hold your breath, shuckface,” Minho scoffs, taking another bite from his granola bar.</p><p>Thomas spreads his hands at Aris. <em>Told you so.</em></p><p>Aris sits next to Thomas, picking up his own granola bar as he goes. His expression is pensive as he unwraps his breakfast, and he eventually speaks up. “Did you think you were going crazy? When Teresa first spoke to you in your head?”</p><p>“I mean,” Thomas begins. “Yeah, I definitely did.” He lays a hand on Minho’s shoulder, squeezing slightly. “Minho helped a lot.”</p><p>Aris nods, still looking thoughtful. “I was in a coma for days, and when I woke up, speaking to Rachel felt so natural and easy. If she hadn’t talked back to me, I don’t know what I would’ve done. The other girls didn’t trust me, wanted to kill me, even. Rachel was able to convince them not to, but even that was hard because she hadn’t been there very long before I showed up.” Aris looks up then, waving a hand between Thomas and Minho. “But this seems like it’s been going on longer than a few weeks. You guys seem… comfortable together.”</p><p>Aris watches as Thomas and Minho have a conversation with only their eyes, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d think that Minho was telepathic too. Finally, Thomas looks away and over to Aris.</p><p>Thomas scratches the back of his neck before saying, “I was one of the original Gladers, but I wasn’t supposed to be.”</p><p>Aris blinks at them, surprised. “Whoa,” he says. “That’s a huge difference between our mazes. They’ve been so similar, still, though.”</p><p>Minho shrugs, watching the rest of the Gladers spill into the common room. “Doesn’t matter anymore, does it?” And that’s the end of it.</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>With the appearance of the Flat Trans, Minho pushes his shoulders back, eyes glinting and determined. “Alright, I’ll go first.” He nods back at Thomas, and Thomas knows that he’s meant to go last, make sure all the boys have passed through before going through himself.</p><p>Minho hesitates for a moment right at the precipice of the grey murky square, looking back at all the Gladers and Aris. His gaze snags on Thomas for a second longer before he turns back. “See you shanks on the other side.”</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>As Thomas steps through the Flat Trans, a cold chill runs through him, cutting bone deep. He opens his eyes once the sensation passes, but he might as well have not bothered, for all the help it does him. He can’t see <em>anything</em>.</p><p>Boys are calling out numbers around him, so he assumes Minho asked for a head count.</p><p>“Twenty-five,” a boy calls out, and Thomas can tell it’s Chuck.</p><p>“Twenty-six.” Newt.</p><p>“Twenty-seven.” Thomas doesn’t recognize the voice immediately, so he guesses that’s Aris.</p><p>“Twenty-eight,” Thomas calls.</p><p>“Thomas? That you?” Minho says, voice distant.</p><p>“Yup, everyone’s here,” Thomas confirms, gripping the bag of water and his food pack closer.</p><p>“Okay, so I’m over here, near some type of hallway, I can feel walls on either side. Most of you are over where we all came from, near Thomas,” Minho says. “I don’t want anyone falling back through the Flat Trans thingamajiggy like a dumb shank, so everyone move this way. Follow the sound of my voice.”</p><p>As everyone slowly shuffles into a single file line down into the hallway, Thomas can’t help but say, “And what a fine voice it is.”</p><p>“Why, thank you, Thomas,” Minho says. “I’m blushing.”</p><p>Immediately, Chuck’s voice pipes up. “Petition for Thomas and Minho to stop flirting in inappropriate situations. Everyone who agrees say <em>aye</em>.”</p><p><em>Aye</em>’s chorus throughout the room in unison, no hesitation, even Aris, who Thomas is pretty sure is right in front of him.</p><p><em>Et tu, Aris?</em> Thomas asks.</p><p>
  <em>Hey, I’m one of you now, ain’t I?</em>
</p><p>Thomas sighs, all faux haughtiness. “Well, what the shuck are Minho and I supposed to do <em>now?</em>”</p><p>“Not my problem,” Chuck says again, sounding like he’s somewhere in the middle of the pack. “You’ve been outvoted.”</p><p>“Alright, alright,” Minho says. “You all slim it nice and calm, me and Thomas’ll shut up.” Then his tone goes steely, into what Thomas likes to call his <em>leader voice</em>. “Let’s go.”</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>They walk for hours in complete darkness.</p><p>Once Frankie starts screaming and Thomas discovers that his head has been sliced clean off by a perfect metal sphere, they start running.</p><p>Thomas doesn’t know how long they run for, but he can’t deny he’s missed this, missed the stretch in his legs and the burn in his lungs. Another boy starts screaming behind him, falling further and further back, and Thomas can feel tears pricking at his eyes. Another boy gone – he doesn’t even know who it was. No one stops – they keep running, and running, and running.</p><p>Suddenly, there’s a sharp cry from up ahead and a dull <em>thunk</em>, and Thomas’ heart jumps into his throat. Was that Minho? Did he get decapitated by the metal ball?</p><p>“Everybody stop!” Minho.</p><p>Thomas breathes a sigh of relief.</p><p>“What’s up there?” Newt’s voice comes from behind Thomas, distant.</p><p>“I think it’s a staircase,” Minho says. “Almost tore my buggin’ kneecaps off.”</p><p>“Well, let’s go up it!” Frypan calls out helpfully.</p><p>“Ya think?” Minho says. “What would we do without you, Frypan? Seriously.”</p><p>Thomas hears the heavy stomps of footsteps against thin metal, and soon everyone is following him up.</p><p>Thomas is only a couple steps off the ground before Minho yells, “Ow!” Groans echo in the small space before the other Gladers can stop from bumping into each other. Thomas catches a sharp elbow in his side, barely suppressing a grunt.</p><p>“You alright?” Thomas calls up the stairwell.</p><p>“What’d you hit?” Newt asks.</p><p>“The shuck top, that’s what,” Minho tells them, sounding irritated. “We’ve hit the roof, and there must be something...” Thomas hears the slide of hands against the ceiling and walls, searching. “Here!”</p><p>There’s a distinct <em>click</em>, and then Thomas’ world ignites into flame. He cries out, throwing up a hand to try to shield the sudden light, and Thomas drops his bag full of water, he can’t help it. A hot burst of air sweeps down into the stairwell, and Thomas can feel the familiar pinpricks of sweat erupt across his skin.</p><p>The trapdoor swings shut with a <em>clang</em>, and darkness returns. “Shuck me,” Minho says. “Where are we, on the freakin’ sun?”</p><p>“Maybe just open it a crack, until we get used to it,” Newt suggests. He passes a shirt up through the boys. “Wedge that in there.”</p><p>Minho takes the suggestion, opening the door again, propping it ever so slightly open with the balled-up shirt.</p><p>When Thomas thinks he can stand it, he blinks open his eyes. After so long in the dark, Thomas doesn’t know if his eyes are <em>ever </em>going to adjust. He peers out the crack of the trapdoor, but can’t distinguish anything other than white light, and he has to look away as his eyes start to burn.</p><p>The boys sit on the staircase, catching their breath, and their eyes finally start to adjust.</p><p>“What– what  is <em>that?</em>”</p><p>Thomas looks up at the sharp cry to Winston pointing up at the ceiling. Above them, only a few feet above their heads, a huge blob of liquid silver coalesces into a large teardrop, dangling lower and lower. Before anyone can react, it detaches itself from the ceiling, and somehow, instead of dropping down to the stairwell, it defies gravity completely and flies straight into Winston’s face.</p><p>Winston’s screams are ear-shattering. Thomas’ feet are under him before he even knows what’s happening, rushing to Winston’s side. There’s clamouring and yelling all around him, and Winston is shouting for help, to <em>get it off, get it off, please! </em>Thomas can see the molten silver burning Winston’s face, blistering his fingers as he tries to push it off his head. Upending his pack of food in a rush, Thomas wraps the bedsheets around his hands before reaching in to help Winston scrape the silver off his head. No one else is going to die today, not on his watch.</p><p>“On three, Winston, you need to help me pull it off!” Thomas is saying. Winston doesn’t seem to notice or understand, his screaming turning incoherent.</p><p>“One… two… three!”</p><p>On the last count, another pair of hands reach over, using the other side of Thomas’ bedsheets, and together, they yank off the strange silver liquid. It pops off Winston’s head with a terrible squelching sound, and it hardens into a ball, dropping down the stairs with the faint ringing of metal against metal. It rolls back down the hallway, disappearing from sight. In the abrupt calm, Thomas follows the extra hands up to a shellshocked looking Chuck, and together they drop the scorched and smoking bed sheets.</p><p>Winston’s legs give out, and he drops to the staircase, crying and shuddering. Thomas sits next to him, hand on his shoulder. He must be in incredible pain – his entire scalp is blistering and bubbling from the burning silver, and Thomas can’t imagine hair growing out of the raw mess of his head ever again. “Winston,” Thomas says softly. “You okay?” It’s a dumb question, no one could be okay after that, but Thomas doesn’t know what else to say.</p><p>Winston snuffles, curling into a smaller ball, shaking his head. His entire body trembles.</p><p>Thomas glances up at the rest of the Gladers. The Gladers look back, surprise, disbelief, and disgust plain on their faces.</p><p>“We gotta get out of here,” Minho says. “Jack, Chuck, you two get Winston on his feet, help him along. Aris, you gather the klunk that was dropped – the rest of you help him. Thomas, Newt, us three are going through first.”</p><p>Thomas pats Winston on the arm once before Jack and Chuck step into the empty space to help him. He follows Minho and Newt to the top of the stairs,</p><p>Minho lifts the trapdoor open a smidge higher, sticking through a hand. It’s only out there a few seconds, gleaming like white fire, before he yanks it back inside. It really is beginning to seem less and less likely that anyone could actually survive up there.</p><p>“That’s hot. That’s real hot. If we don’t cover up, we’ll get second degree burns in five minutes flat.”</p><p>Newt raises the food pack he’s still holding. “What about the bedsheets?”</p><p>Minho sighs, wishing there was another way of protecting themselves from the sun other than destroying the one way they had of carrying their food. With a frustrated noise, he reaches for his own food pack, upending the bag and letting its contents fall down the stairs, leaving the other Gladers to scramble to pick it up. He unknots the bedsheets, handing one to Thomas, who had ruined his when he helped Winston.</p><p>“Here’s hoping we don’t see any of our Crank buddies,” Minho says, pulling the sheet over his head.</p><p>“I can’t imagine anyone just sittin’ around in that heat,” Newt says.</p><p>“We won’t know until we go investigate,” Thomas says. “Let’s go.” He wraps the bedsheet around his head like someone might wear a shawl. “How do I look?”</p><p>Minho gives him a quick glance over. “Like the ugliest shank grandma I’ve ever had the displeasure of looking at.”</p><p>Thomas grins at him, toothy and wide. “Aw, thanks, babe.”</p><p>“Literally what did Chuck <em>just </em>say this morning?” Newt says, voice flat.</p><p>“Lighten up, Newt,” Minho responds, then turns to dart up the last remaining steps. He’s absorbed into the light in seconds. Thomas takes off after him, Newt right behind him.</p><p>It takes them all a couple of minutes to get used to the sheer amount of light and heat beating down on them. They gasp for air, dry warmth filling their lungs, making it hard to breathe. Thomas crouches down to the ground, fanning out the sheet to create a small patch of shade that he can just about stand to look at for more than two seconds.</p><p>They’re supposed to survive in this, <em>how?</em></p><p>Thomas knew it wouldn’t be easy, not in the slightest, but... this seems almost impossible. He swallows. Almost.</p><p>“You both okay?” Minho finally asks.</p><p>“Yeah,” Thomas grunts.</p><p>“I think we just arrived in bloody hell,” Newt pants. “Always knew you two would end up here, but not me.”</p><p>“Good that,” Minho says, the response overlapping with Thomas’ retort of, “Thanks a bunch, Newt.”</p><p>Thomas finally stands back up, taking in the surroundings. It’s a barren wasteland, dusty and rocky and devoid of anything comfortable. No trees. No shade.</p><p>In the distance, mountains rise up from the horizon, the atmosphere so hazy that Thomas can’t see the peaks. Maybe about halfway between the boys and the mountains are buildings, making up what must be a town. It’s too far away to distinguish the size of it, but Thomas senses that’s where they’re supposed to go.</p><p>Long shadows are being cast to Thomas’ right, meaning the town is due north. Exactly where they were told to head.</p><p>Minho and Newt have also noticed the distant town. “Do you think that’s a hundred miles?” Newt asks.</p><p>Thomas shakes his head, but Minho beats him to the answer. “Probably only about thirty miles to those buildings. Sixty or seventy to the mountains.”</p><p>“I’d say twenty, twenty-five max,” Thomas says.</p><p>Newt rolls his eyes, clutching the sheet tighter in his fists. “I shouldn’t have asked.”</p><p>“How long do you think it’ll take us to reach the town?” Thomas asks Minho.</p><p>Minho squints into the distance, contemplative. “Couple days, maybe? We make it as far as we can before sundown, take a break, then go a little farther during the night before we get some real rest.”</p><p>“Sounds like a plan,” Newt says.</p><p>Minho turns to squat at the edge of the trapdoor, yelling through the opening, “Come on, you bunch of no-good shanks, grab all the food and get your butts up here!”</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>No one complains about the plan.</p><p>Adjustments have to be made once all the boys are out of the stairwell – water and food are packed tightly into half the original packs, then the free bedsheets are used to cover two boys as they walk.</p><p>Thomas ends up sharing with Aris, Minho and Newt sharing a sheet up at the front of the group. It works surprisingly well, even for Chuck and poor Winston.</p><p>They set off into the barren landscape with no time to lose. They walk for ages, long enough for the barely blue sky to morph into a brilliant sunset, awash with oranges and purples. Thomas watches the sun sink lower into the west horizon with a distant sort of irritation. It seems so extremely wrong for something so beautiful to exist when the Gladers don’t even know if they’re going to live to see the next day.</p><p>WICKED controls everything in this sick game – they decide who lives and who dies, who is taken from them, who joins them. Thomas glances sideways over to Aris.</p><p>“Tell me more about your Maze,” Thomas says after long hours of silence.</p><p>“There’s not much to tell, really,” Aris replies. “Everything’s mostly the same, except Rachel came up a day before me instead of being sent up in the very beginning like you. If anything, your Maze was more different because you and Minho fell in love.”</p><p>“It just seems weird that despite Minho and I, everything really <em>did </em>turn out the same. Two years with no exit, then you and Rachel trigger the Ending, you find out the Maze is a code, and then you escape.”</p><p>Aris is silent for a moment. “You’re wondering why you didn’t figure out the Maze sooner.”</p><p>Now that Aris has said it, Thomas realizes the statement is true. “Yeah,” Thomas admits.</p><p>“Maybe WICKED altered your mind so as not to mess up the experiment even more,” Aris says.</p><p>Thomas shivers just at the idea of it. WICKED having their sticky fingers in his brain repulses Thomas completely. He just wants to be <em>himself</em>, dammit, and not worry about his actions and thoughts being somehow influenced by WICKED. Is that too much to ask? Probably.</p><p>Aris and Thomas continue on, step by step.</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>As night falls, the boys no longer need the sheets, but the warmth remains, even with no sun. Dinner is quiet and short, filled with speculation about what else the Trial might entail, but none of them have definitive answers and they quickly fall silent.</p><p>They decide to run for a couple more hours and then stop to get some sleep. They haven’t been running for long when Thomas begins to hear screaming. It’s distant, maybe as far as the town, which is steadily getting closer as the boys jog along the plains. At first, he thinks maybe he’s imagined the noise, but eventually Minho holds up a hand, halting their progress.</p><p>For a moment, the boys catch their breath, and it becomes easier to hear the disturbing sound.</p><p>It’s a wail, a grating screech, and now Thomas can tell it’s a girl screaming somewhere in the distance.</p><p>“Sounds like a dying cat,” Chuck says. A few boys mumble their agreements.</p><p>“Nah, you know what that reminds me of?” Minho asks the group, fear laced into the words.</p><p>Thomas squeezes his eyes shut. “The screaming after a Griever sting?”</p><p>Minho looks over at Thomas, eyes somber. “Yeah.”</p><p>“Oh, hell no,” Frypan moans. “<em>Please </em>don’t tell me we’re gonna have to deal with the Grievers out here, too. I can’t take it!”</p><p>“Those things were shuckin’ <em>wet, </em>dude. No way they’d survive out here,” Chuck says matter-of-factly.</p><p>Thomas can’t help but think that WICKED could easily create something to withstand the white-hot sun, that the boys wouldn’t have any line of defense against whatever WICKED decided to dream up, but he stays silent.</p><p>“Come on,” Minho says. “We have to keep going.”</p><p>“What about the psycho screaming lady?” Frypan asks.</p><p> “Sounds like she’s busy with her own problems,” Minho says. He takes off, the boys following close behind.</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>Thomas is running faster, <em>harder</em>, than he’s ever ran in his life.</p><p>The screams had been Teresa’s. They’d had to have been. He doesn’t know what she’d gone through before he stepped through the door of the shack. All he knows is that he saw Teresa, hugged her tight, and then he’d <em>left her there.</em></p><p>WICKED was going to do unspeakable things to her for what she’d done for the Gladers. She’d saved their lives, broken through WICKED’s programming somehow, but now her own life was at risk.</p><p>Thomas pushes impossibly forward, setting a punishing pace. The tears can’t fall if they’re being whipped away by the wind.</p><p>His feet ache, legs burning, lungs heaving. Eventually, he slows down, doubling over to catch his breath. The rest of the boys are far behind, so Thomas waits for them to catch up.</p><p>Thomas doesn’t need to look up to know that Minho’s the first one to reach him. He doesn’t need to see his face to know he’s furious.</p><p>Minho circles him three times before finally saying something, but he still seems too angry to speak. “What...” he breaks off, turning away before stalking back over. “Why...” Little dust clouds plume from his heavy stomps. “What kind of <em>shuck idiot</em> are you, Thomas?”</p><p>For the first time Thomas can remember, he doesn’t feel like talking to Minho. He doesn’t want to talk to anybody about anything.</p><p>When Thomas doesn’t immediately answer, Minho kneels down next to him, forcing Thomas to look up at him. “How could you do that? How could you just come out of there and take off like that? Without explaining anything? Since when is <em>that </em>how we do things?” He sighs explosively, falling back to sit properly on the ground. “You absolute slinthead.”</p><p>Thomas blinks down to the dusty rocks below him for a few long seconds, trying to force back any lingering tears. “I’m sorry,” he says finally. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”</p><p>“You came out of there screaming that it was a trap and then <em>took off</em>, you think I didn’t worry?” Minho asks. He pauses, observing Thomas for a moment. “What happened in there?”</p><p>By now, the other boys have joined them, all pressing in close to hear what Thomas had to say. Thomas knows that he has no choice but to tell them. They need to know.</p><p>“It was…” he exhales heavily, forcing himself to continue. “It was Teresa.”</p><p>“Seriously?” Minho says.</p><p>Thomas nods, misery sweeping through him.</p><p>“And you <em>left her there</em>?” Minho asks, taken aback. “You need to tell us what happened.”</p><p>Thomas recounts the whole sordid tale, seeing the speakers on the exterior of the shack and how he’s pretty sure the screaming was meant to lure them there. He tells them about Teresa herself, tearful and controlled, her warning to leave, his promise that he would find her.</p><p>“They’re going to kill her,” Thomas says, and the tears spring back to life, spilling down his cheeks before he can stop them. “She was the Betrayer, remember? She was supposed to betray us. Me, maybe. Who knows? Somehow, she was able get a warning out. A lot of us were supposed to die.”</p><p>“She’s gonna be okay, Thomas,” Chuck says. “She’s tough.”</p><p>Thomas just shakes his head. Not tough enough to not <em>die </em>when it comes right down to it.</p><p>Minho claps a hand on Thomas’ shoulder, using the leverage to bring himself to his feet. “If WICKED wanted her dead, she’d be dead. She’s obviously alive for a reason.” He pauses, waiting for Thomas to look up. When Thomas finally does, Minho says, “She’s going to be alright.”</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>They get as much rest as they can before the sun comes up, but after that, sleep is impossible. After a quick breakfast, they’re back on their feet and continuing to walk towards the buildings in the distance. Thomas wants to run, but the heat is unbearable, and their supplies are dwindling. No way they would have enough water for all the boys if they started running.</p><p>The town is much closer now, like the buildings grew overnight somehow, stretching up towards the hazy, cloudless sky.</p><p>He feels marginally better after sleeping for a bit, knowing that he had gotten emotional last night because he was overtired.</p><p>The main thing keeping him going now is the overwhelming curiosity of what they’re going to find in the town. He wonders what else WICKED is going to throw at them, hopes like hell that they won’t lose anyone else. Maybe Teresa’s shack was the only obstacle in their journey, and they skirted that with no problem. Distantly, he thinks about the possibility that Teresa being controlled was all an act, that the Gladers were <em>meant </em>to get away, its purpose being to lull them into a false sense of security. Once again, the fact that the boys know that they’re being tested rears its ugly head. It’s making Thomas question everything, slowly driving him insane.</p><p>Thomas is also holding out hope that Teresa is okay, that she made it out somehow, that she’s alive and well and WICKED doesn’t have a hold on her. Maybe she went through a Flat Trans and is already in the town ahead of them.</p><p>And Minho. Minho’s definitely alive, holding up his side of the sheet next to him as they trudge along the desolate wasteland.</p><p>They made up last night before falling asleep, Thomas clarifying fully his reasoning for taking off without any explanation, Minho making it explicitly clear that he wouldn’t tolerate behaviour like that, especially not now that he was the leader. Thomas and Minho curled up together like they always did, and Chuck commented <em>I’m glad mom and dad aren’t fighting anymore, </em>and Frypan remarked <em>I don’t know how you two can sleep like that, it’s still shuckin’ hot out here, </em>and everything was back to normal.</p><p>Except this shuckin’ weather.</p><p>The closer they get to the city, the more the wind picks up, until it’s whipping at their clothes and ripping bedsheets from their grip. The sky goes overcast, but still remains bright, so if a storm is coming, there’s still time left before it’s upon them. There’s a collective unspoken agreement to make it to the city before the storm begins, and they start running.</p><p>Before Thomas knows it, the sky grows dark with nightfall, and they’re so close to the town Thomas can almost taste it. The building they’re running to is getting hard to see, a large cloud of dust rising up in front of it as if to ward the Gladers off.</p><p><em>I think we’re going to make it, </em>he thinks, the strange urge to laugh bubbling up inside his chest. <em>We’re really going to make it.</em></p><p>But Thomas should have known that WICKED wouldn’t make it easy.</p><p>The bolts come out of <em>nowhere</em>.</p><p>Lightning streaks across the sky, slamming into the earth and throwing up crumbled rocks and soil. The crushing sound is almost too much to bear, and Thomas’ ears eventually go numb, completely deafened. The boys have no choice but to run through the storm, grit picked up by the wind, slicing at their arms and legs.</p><p>Thomas knows it’s only a matter of time before one of the bolts lands too close to one of the other boys – or hits them directly, he wouldn’t put it past WICKED – and reduces them to charred husks. The dust cloud thickens, the wind whipping harder than Thomas thought possible, and he realizes with a sick feeling that he can’t see everyone anymore. He thinks – Minho was behind him, right? And Newt was to his right? Is Chuck up ahead? Oh man, Thomas can’t remember.</p><p>Thomas wipes at his face to clear the grime from his eyes, and he can see flashes of arms and legs and the backs of heads as the lightning flashes past.</p><p>A hot burst of light strikes, exploding on the ground directly in front of him. Thomas screams – he can’t hear it, but he feels the vibration in his chest – the sheer force of the bolt throwing him clear off his feet. Thomas hits the earth <em>hard</em>, catching a sharp rock to his shoulder blade, and his lungs feel like they’ve shrivelled up to the size of raisins. He gasps in hot, staticky air, coughing up the inhaled dirt and dust from the wind.</p><p>He feels like he’s deep underwater, unable to hear, see, <em>breathe</em>. For a moment, Thomas just lays there, gasping for air, blinking into the black sky and wondering if there’ll be a white flash above him – maybe WICKED will finish him off without the help of Group B after all.</p><p>But then there’s hands reaching for him, grabbing his arms and hauling him upright before another bolt of lightning can fall from the sky. <em>Minho. </em>Minho’s hands push him forwards, and Thomas forces his legs to work again, feet slipping against the loose gravel before finally finding traction.</p><p>The darkness swirls around them like an ever-living night, and as the lightning lights up the sky in short bursts, Thomas finally sees it. Thomas has seen a lot of horrific stuff in his life, but this might just take the cake. Thomas stops running, Minho almost crashing into him. Everything slows down.</p><p>It’s Jack. In a small crater made by the lightning that threw Thomas off the ground, Jack lay writhing as he clutches at his knee. There’s nothing below it, shin, ankle, and foot obliterated by the strike. Thomas can see the gush of black-red blood splashing onto the broken-up earth below him. Jack's entire body is raw and blistering, his clothes completely burned off. He has no hair, and his eyes… they’re <em>gone, </em>nothing but black pits of nothingness. But Thomas can’t look away. Jack’s mouth is open in a soundless cry of anguish, and Thomas is terribly glad he can’t hear it.</p><p>Minho grabs at his shirt sleeve, his arm. Thomas looks over at him, and he’s sure the horror is plain as day on his face. Minho says something – <em>we have to go, there’s nothing we can do </em>– and Thomas nods dumbly. His ears ringing, his back aching, his entire body trembling, Thomas stumbles after Minho, running on colt-like legs.</p><p><em>Jack</em>, Thomas thinks. <em>Oh, man, Jack.</em></p><p>It’s too dark to see very far ahead of them, the lightning coming too fast to see much of anything. The building is getting closer though, almost on top of them. Shadows are cast all around him, other Gladers running like their lives depend on it – because it does. They’ve lost all hope of organization. It’s every Glader for themselves, but Thomas keeps his eyes glued to Minho’s back, refusing to let him out of his sight. Thomas hopes that Chuck and Newt are okay, that they haven’t met the same fate as poor Jack.</p><p>They continue running. They just need to get to the building, it’s only a little farther. The whipping storm has turned him into an animal – he wants to survive, to <em>live</em>, just make it to the next day. If they could just make it a few more minutes, Thomas thinks that–</p><p>White light detonates right in front of him, throwing him into the air once again. Thomas shouts, and even as he flies backwards, he tries to get his feet under him. Minho was right where the explosion went off.</p><p><em>“Minho!”</em> The cry tears out of him unbidden, even if Minho has no hope of hearing him.</p><p>Thomas scrambles to his feet as soon as he hits the ground, barely feeling the impact over the rush in his ears. The lightning illuminates Minho in short flashes, and– is that–? Minho is splayed on the ground a few feet away, fire climbing high into the sky, flying to the right with the force of the harsh wind. Minho’s clothes are on fire.</p><p>“No, no, no,” Thomas chants, diving to Minho’s side. His eyes are open – that’s a good sign, right? “You’re okay, you’re fine, you’re going to be fine.” The nonsensical words do nothing to quell the fear churning inside him, but Thomas can’t stop the words from tumbling out.</p><p>He shovels the earth onto Minho, the ground thankfully loose from the beating it’s taken from the lightning, patting across where the fire licks across Minho’s clothes. Minho reaches up to help, batting at the strongest points of the flame.</p><p>Within a matter of seconds, the flames die out, and Thomas sees the sheer agony in Minho’s eyes, his lips shaping unheard curse words.</p><p>Thomas knows they don’t have any time to lose. “Come on!” he yells, hauling Minho to his feet. Minho wraps an arm around Thomas’ neck, Minho’s fingers clutching his shoulder <em>just </em>on this side of too tight. Thomas takes the brunt of Minho’s weight, leading them forward as fast as his feet will carry them. “You’re not dying tonight,” Thomas whispers to himself, to Minho, to the rest of the Gladers running alongside them. “Not tonight.”</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>It rains for hours.</p><p>Thomas sits in the abandoned building, back against the cold concrete wall, watching the rain come down in a torrent through the broken window. Chuck is next to him, alive and safe, laying on his side, head pillowed on Thomas’ thigh. He’s been staring unblinkingly out the door they came in for too long, now. Newt sits a couple feet away from Thomas on the opposite side of Chuck. He’s quiet too, rubbing his ankle with a slight grimace.</p><p>Sound comes back slowly, the cotton-ball feeling in Thomas’ head dissipating as time progresses. He hears the rain pelting against the metal infrastructure of the building, and it evokes some type of memory from long ago, before WICKED, before the everlasting sunniness of the Glade. For a long while, he rests his head back against the wall, listening to the steady thrum of the water. It’s soothing, almost.</p><p>Minho whimpers from where he’s curled up at Thomas’ feet, and Thomas wants to reach out, but when he touched Minho earlier, he had shrunk back and away. Thomas doesn’t want to hurt him any more than he already is, so he keeps his hands where they are, running his fingers through Chuck’s hair. He brushes away the dirt and untangles the flying debris that had knotted itself into the brown strands, Chuck silent under his gentle ministrations.</p><p>Thomas knows that they should get some sleep, but every time he shuts his eyes for longer than ten seconds, he sees Minho laying in Jack’s place, leg a bloody mess, body charred and burned beyond recognition. Thomas gazes over at Minho, trembling and in pain.</p><p>That had been close. Way too close. Minho almost <em>died</em>.</p><p>The thought alone is debilitating.</p><p>But Minho didn’t die. Neither did Chuck, or Newt, or Frypan. Aris made it too, propped up into a corner across the room. Thomas thinks he’s asleep, but he doesn’t know how that’s possible. All Thomas can do right now is just <em>breathe</em>. In and out, over and over, matching his own breaths to the rise and fall of Minho’s chest.</p><p>They’re okay. They’re together. They’re alright. They made it.</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>Thomas must have passed out from pure exhaustion, because when he eventually blinks his eyes open, the morning light is spilling onto the dirty floor, remnants of the storm outside all but gone. Long shadows are cast from the random stuff scattered around the room – old, torn newspapers, overturned crates, leftover packaging from opened food.</p><p>Oh, <em>food. </em>Thomas could go for some of that, right now. His stomach grumbles.</p><p>Chuck still sleeps on, drooling onto the floor, face mashed into Thomas’ thigh.</p><p>“You okay?”</p><p>Thomas looks over at the sound, sees that it came from Newt.</p><p>“Yeah, I’m–” his voice cracks, so he clears his throat and tries again. “I’m alright. You?”</p><p>Newt nods. His face is grubby, his clothes no better, torn and dishevelled. “My shuck ankle is smarting, but no wonder, considering all the bloody running we did.” He shrugs, mouth twisting. “No helping it.”</p><p>They’re quiet for a moment, Thomas’ hand finding Chuck’s hair again and pushing his fingers through the locks, the motion repetitive and calming.</p><p>“What happened to Minho?” Newt asks quietly.</p><p>Thomas replies in a distant sort of way, recounting the events and trying not to relive them. “Lightning bolt either hit him or landed too close to him, set his clothes on fire. We put it out pretty quick, all things considered.”</p><p>“Ohhhhh…” Minho groans from their feet. “I’m shucked,” he says. “Finally shucked for good.”</p><p>“How bad is it?” Newt asks.</p><p>Instead of answering, Minho manages to push himself up into a sitting position, wincing with every slight movement. Most of his clothes are intact, holes burned straight through to blistering, blackened flesh. But other than that, he seems okay. He’s<em> alive</em>, and that’s all that matters to Thomas.</p><p>“Can’t be too bad if you can do that,” Thomas says with a sly grin. “The fire spared your face, and you still got a head full of hair. I can’t complain.”</p><p>“<em>You </em>can’t complain?” Minho says incredulously, coughing out a laugh and then wincing at the stretch in his chest. “You sayin’ you wouldn’t love me anymore if I was bald and had burns all over my face?”</p><p>“’Course not, what d'ya think Newt’s here for?” Thomas sticks a thumb in Newt’s direction, raising his eyebrows. “Back-up boyfriend. <em>Duh.</em>”</p><p>“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Newt protests, waving his hands in front of his face. “Don’t involve me in this.”</p><p>“Slinthead,” Minho says to Thomas.</p><p>Thomas just grins, leaning forward to wrap a hand in Minho’s charred shirt, yanking him into a kiss. It’s quick and dirty, a <em>I’m glad we’re both alive and lived to see another day </em>type kiss, one they’ve truly perfected over the years.</p><p>The movement jostles Chuck, and he springs upright, grabbing the closest thing to his hand and brandishing it against empty air.</p><p>A pause.</p><p>“You think that plastic spoon is gonna protect you, Chuckie?” Minho asks.</p><p>Chuck whips around at the sound, sees Minho and Thomas a breath apart, amusement painted on both of their faces. Thomas’ fist is still clenched in Minho’s shirt.</p><p>He drops the spoon with a groan. “I thought we were under attack or somethin’, and here you two are, making out like <em>always</em>. Jesus.” He scrubs the sleep from his eyes, like that’ll make the scene in front of him somehow okay.</p><p>Minho twists his head around to take in the rest of the Gladers spread out around the room, the movement dislodging Thomas’ hand from his shirt. He turns back to the three of them and says to no one in particular, “How many?”</p><p>Thomas looks out at the other Gladers, finally able to see all of them in the light of dawn. There’s… not a lot of them. Thomas thought more of them made it through. With a sick feeling growing in the pit of his stomach, he does a head count.</p><p>There’s only fifteen of them left. <em>Fifteen.</em></p><p>The lighthearted mood from earlier now seems traitorous.</p><p>He can’t see Tim, or Stan. Jack’s dead, or at least Thomas hopes one of the lightning strikes finally took him out, hopes that he’s not somehow still alive out there, blind, burnt, and in sheer agony. Winston isn’t among the other Gladers either. Thomas presses his lips together.</p><p>They had started out at twenty-eight boys in the very beginnings of the Glade. With some casualties along the way, there had been sixty-one of them before they decided to fight against the Grievers and escape the Maze. Twenty-eight had survived, had made it out of the Maze and into the second Trial. Twenty-six of them made it above ground. Only <em>fifteen </em>boys made it to the town.</p><p><em>Fifteen </em>shuckin’ people.</p><p>Thomas wants to scream. <em>How </em>could he have been a part of WICKED, been a part of anything that would allow something like this to happen? The weird memory-dreams he’s been having are occurring more frequently, but he still hasn’t told anyone about them, even Minho.</p><p>He remembers Minho sitting next to him in the forest of the Glade after Thomas had just revealed he had worked with WICKED to design the Maze, his soft voice telling him <em>it’s not your fault, you were just a kid, you still are, we all are. </em>But he just can’t bring himself to utter the words, to make the memories – the dreams – feel any more real than they already do.</p><p>He can’t believe he had ever been a part of something that could allow something like this to happen.</p><p>“There’s fifteen of us,” Newt says bleakly, and there it is. It’s finally out there.</p><p>“So, ten, eleven people bit it in the lightning storm?” Minho’s tone is detached, like he’s talking about lost apples.</p><p>Thomas slaps Minho in the arm, and if he aimed for one of the burned patches of skin, Thomas isn’t going to admit it. <em>“Minho.”</em></p><p>“Hey!” Minho says, holding his arm close to his body.</p><p>“You almost made that tally twelve, shuckface. So slim it and at least <em>pretend </em>that you care that <em>eleven </em>people died.”</p><p>Minho swallows, shoulders shifting. He looks over to Newt, but is only met with a steely glare that matches Thomas’. He looks over to Chuck, who’s steadfastly gazing at the floor.</p><p>“Eli’s dead, man. Liam too.” Chuck begins. “They were my friends. They all were.” He takes a breath like he’s going to continue, but then shakes his head, dismissing the thought.</p><p>Minho rolls his eyes, and Thomas gives him a warning glare like he’s going to smack him again.</p><p>Minho holds up his hands, palms out. “I’m sorry that I’m not grieving in the same way you guys are. But now I’m the leader, and I can’t be crying about every boy that we lose. A leader sucks it up and decides what to do next. Did you guys really think we would get here without losing anyone? I mean, come <em>on</em>.”</p><p>Thomas crosses his arms, anger simmering right beneath his skin, threatening to bubble over. “Is that how you’d act if I <em>bit it in the lightning storm? </em>Ended up like Jack?” Thomas doesn’t know what Minho sees in his eyes, but he’s hurt and betrayed.</p><p>“Thomas…” Minho says, face softening.</p><p>“There’s only <em>fifteen</em> of us left,” Thomas says, tone scathing. “<em>Twenty-eight </em>escaped the Maze. Before that, there was-”</p><p>“I know!” Minho shouts, cutting off what Thomas was about to say. He exhales sharply, standing with a wince, towering over where Thomas still sits against the wall. “You think I don’t know that? That we lost Clint, Jeff, Doug, <em>Alby, </em>in the fight against the Grievers? I watched <em>thirty-three </em>boys get ripped to shreds, Thomas. You and Teresa and Chuck got a freakin’ free pass! Get off your high horse and climb back down to earth with the rest of us!” He stomps off to the other side of the room, ignoring the other stares from the other Gladers who were disrupted by the yelling.</p><p>Thomas stares at the opposite wall, jaw clenched, fighting back the impulse of following Minho and asking exactly what he meant by that, the thing about Teresa, Chuck, and him getting a <em>free pass</em>. Minho didn’t have a problem with the plan back then, what’s his issue now?</p><p>Thomas knows he just said it to hurt him, but it doesn’t make the remark sting any less.</p><p>“Do you think there’s any food around here?” Chuck asks, trying to relieve the tension.</p><p>“Did somebody say food?”</p><p>The voice comes from above, and Thomas and the other boys are on their feet before the sentence is finished. He looks up to the ruin of a building they slept in that night, massive holes ripped in each floor, stretching up and up. Thomas can see slivers of blue sky peeking in from jagged holes in the ceiling. Most importantly, a face peers down at them from above, and Thomas wonders how much the guy heard, if Minho’s shouting had alerted him to their presence.</p><p>Miraculously, the guy jumps down from the floor above, and instead of breaking both of his shuck legs, he ducks and rolls into a somersault, vaulting up with his hands splayed.</p><p>Minho stalks towards the acrobatic display, shouldering his way in front of Thomas. At any other time, Thomas might have been flattered by the protective display, but now it just annoys him.</p><p>“Who’re you?” Minho asks.</p><p>“I’m Jorge,” the guy says, eyes wild. “I’m the Crank who rules this place.”</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>Thomas almost doesn’t believe the guy is real. Maybe Thomas is still asleep, and this is all just some elaborate dream. And this guy is supposedly a Crank? He doesn’t exactly look like the crazy, hysterical people that were clawing their way into the Gladers’ dorm room a few days ago. Is Jorge lying? Is this another test from WICKED?</p><p>Minho asks a couple questions, gets some half answers, and then he has the absolute audacityto try to <em>threaten </em>the guy. He’s obviously in a fighting mood.</p><p>“From what I can see,” Minho says, swivelling his head mockingly, “we outnumber you. How about <em>you</em> talk first,” and it’s not a suggestion.</p><p>Thomas casts his gaze heavenward, shoulders dropping. He <em>really </em>wishes Minho hadn’t said that. Jorge is obviously not alone, there could be other Cranks hidden up above, a hundred, a <em>thousand</em>, who knows how many nooks and crannies they could hide away in?</p><p>Jorge stares at Minho for a long time, before finally saying, “You didn’t just say that to me, <em>hermano</em>. Please tell me you didn’t just speak to me like I’m a dog. You have ten seconds to apologize.”</p><p>Minho smirks at him, arrogant and cocksure. Thomas glares at him, willing him not to be so belligerent.</p><p>“One. Two.”</p><p>Thomas widens his eyes at Minho as Minho glances over to him. <em>Apologize. Do it.</em></p><p>“Three. Four.”</p><p>“Minho,” Thomas says out loud. “Do it.”</p><p>“Five. Six.”</p><p>“Minho!”</p><p>“Seven. Eight.”</p><p>Jorge’s voice steadily rises with each count, and Thomas sees flickers of shadows from above, too fast to catch. Maybe Minho sees it too; any arrogance he still harbours drains from his face.</p><p>“Nine.”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Minho blurts with little feeling.</p><p>Jorge looks at Minho, face blank. “I don’t think you meant that.” Then he kicks Minho in the leg.</p><p>As Minho cries out in pain, Thomas just barely restrains himself from running to him, to doing something unspeakable to the Crank that inflicted the injury. Jorge must have kicked him right in the spot of a burn.</p><p>Before Minho can recover, Jorge kicks at him again, twice as hard in the exact same spot. This time, Minho’s knees buckle and he collapses on the floor, wailing and clutching at the wound. Thomas feels Frypan’s hand wrap around his wrist, a conscious reminder not to run over there, to reveal their hand too early.</p><p>“I’m…” Minho starts, breathing heavily, voice strained and laced with pure agony. “I’m sorry.” But as soon as Jorge relaxes, satisfied and smiling at the humiliation he caused, Minho swings out a vicious elbow, catching Jorge straight in the shin.</p><p>Many things happen all at once: Jorge shrieks, hopping onto his opposite foot, and then Minho is on him, strings of obscenities falling out of his mouth. Minho sends both of them tumbling to the floor, trapping Jorge under him with strong thighs, punching at his face brutally. Then the ropes fall from the above, ten or fifteen other people slithering down them with practiced ease. Some roll into crouches, others land squarely on their feet, but as soon as they’re all gathered around their leader, sharp, menacing objects are revealed from the folds of their clothes.</p><p>Thomas rips his hand out of Frypan’s grasp, taking off at a run and slamming into Minho, pulling him off Jorge. They fall to the ground, Thomas taking the brunt of it with his shoulder as he rolls them, showing Minho the crowd of people that have materialized from the floors above. Minho still struggles against him, but Thomas holds tight, wrapping his arms around him from behind.</p><p>“Stop it!” he whisper-yells into his ear. “They’ll kill you! They’ll kill all of us!”</p><p>Jorge, having gotten back to his feet, stalks over to the two of them. Blood drips from his nose, his lip split. The look in his eye sends a fission of fear through Thomas, and Thomas bodily rolls Minho to his other side, releasing him, moving so his own body is shielding Minho’s. He holds up a hand at the oncoming Crank. Maybe given to him from one of the newcomers, Jorge now has in his hand a rusted knife.</p><p>“Wait!” He puts his palm on Minho’s chest, applying just enough pressure for him to know to <em>stay down, goddammit</em>, and holds up a conciliatory hand up to Jorge. He’s thinking quickly on his feet, trying to stop this whole thing from becoming a scene reminiscent of the Slaughterhouse once Winston was done for the day. “Please, just… listen to me. It wouldn’t do you guys any good to– to hurt us.”</p><p>Jorge sneers down at them, fiddling with the knife in his jittering hand, and Thomas thinks about how he could cut his throat in less than a second – he’d bleed out before he even knew what happened. Thomas swallows past the sudden lump in his throat.</p><p>“Ten minutes,” Thomas says. He doesn’t know where the words come from, he’s talking straight out of his butt. He just needs to get that knife away from Minho, away from the rest of the Gladers. “Give me ten minutes, just me and you, and I’ll explain why we’re valuable. <em>Alive</em>,” he emphasizes. “Not dead.”</p><p>Jorge’s eyes glint, chin tilted ever so slightly. Hook, line, and sinker.</p><p>A few moments pass, and they feel like hours. Thomas makes a conscious effort to look at Jorge’s face and not the tip of the knife that’s at his eye level.</p><p>“Ten minutes,” Jorge says finally. He tells the rest of the Cranks behind him to watch the Gladers – if any of them make any sudden moves, all bets are off. Jorge gestures down a long hallway. “This way.”</p><p>With a final heavy look at Minho, Thomas gets to his feet, following Jorge into the shadows.</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>Jorge’s quiet.</p><p>Thomas had explained everything to the best of his ability. He talked about the Maze, WICKED, the experiment, how they were part of a Trial, Group B’s existence, that they were all on their way to get a cure for the Flare. As soon as he mentions a cure, about the potential of Jorge getting it for himself, Thomas knows that Jorge’s intrigued by the plan. The fleeting look of hope had been too genuine to conceal.</p><p>Jorge leans back in his chair, the wood creaking so loudly Thomas fears it might crack. “What’s your name?” he asks.</p><p>It’s not what Thomas is expecting.</p><p>“Your <em>name</em>,” Jorge repeats.</p><p>“Uh, sorry. It’s Thomas.”</p><p>There’s a short flash of something across Jorge’s face – recognition? – but it’s gone too quick for Thomas to decipher the look, replaced by blank indifference. “Thomas, huh? You go by Tommy? Tom?”</p><p>Thomas thinks of Newt calling him Tommy straight out of the Box, and Thomas never correcting him. He thinks about Teresa calling him Tom, the sound always feeling like a warm, comforting hug. He thinks of Minho calling him nothing but Thomas from day one, whether it be shouted, whispered, moaned.</p><p>He looks up at Jorge. “Just Thomas.”</p><p>Jorge tells him some stuff about his own life then, about just contracting the virus recently, how he was shipped off by WICKED to this strange, halfway house type town with all the other infected people in the world. It paints a vivid picture of a cutthroat society ruled by the rich and powerful, where the weak have to fight against the crazy for scraps in the dark.</p><p>Jorge barks out a small laugh. “There’s something about you, Thomas. I <em>like </em>you. You know, a few minutes ago I wanted to stab your friend there in the eyeballs – Minho, was it? – but I’ll be licked if you haven’t half convinced me.”</p><p>That was the opening Thomas needed. “If stabbing <em>you </em>in the eyeball would let the rest of us live another day, I’d do it in a heartbeat. But I need you. We all need you. And you need us.”</p><p>A smile stretches its way across Jorge’s face, too wide and too toothy. “I’ll help you. I believe I have a vested interest in getting the rest of you to that Safe Haven you told me about. I deliver you to WICKED, you get me the cure. I guess we have ourselves a deal, <em>hermano. </em>But I got one condition.”</p><p>“What’s that?”</p><p>“Your friend. <em>Minho</em>. He dies.”</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>“No.”</p><p>Thomas says it way too quickly, too harshly, he knows. He just hopes the calm façade he was projecting didn’t crack too much, that he didn’t give away too much of his actual feelings. The mask is back on in under a second.</p><p>“No?” Jorge looks surprised. Thomas doesn’t imagine he’s someone who gets told <em>no </em>very often. “I offer you a chance to make it through a city full of vicious, psycho Cranks and you say <em>no? </em>I don’t think I have to tell you that doesn’t make me very happy.” Jorge has risen from his seat, his entire body vibrating with anger.</p><p>“It wouldn’t be smart,” Thomas says, trying to remain aloof as he barters for Minho’s life. “He’s strong. You saw what he did to you. We want that on our side. You kill him, you lose the skills he brings to the table.”</p><p>“But he made me <em>angry</em>.” Jorge says it tightly, fists clenching as he drops back into his chair. His elbows rest on the desk between them. “He made me look weak in front of my people and that’s… it’s not acceptable.”</p><p>“Then make <em>him </em>look weak. Give him some sort of punishment in front of your friends.” Thomas knows that Minho will be able to take a punch or two, especially if it’s in exchange for his shuckin’ <em>life</em>. “But don’t kill him. The more bodies that we have to fight, the better, right?”</p><p>Finally, <em>finally</em>, Jorge’s white-knuckle grip loosens, fingers spreading out onto the desk’s surface.</p><p>“Okay, okay, fine,” Jorge finally relents, and Thomas feels like he can relax. Jorge nods, as if solidifying something that he was talking in his head to himself about. “I’ve made my mind up about something.”</p><p>There’s a spike of fear that lances through him, despite Jorge just agreeing not to kill Minho. “And that is…?”</p><p>“I’m not taking those other Cranks out there with us. Just one other person – her name’s Brenda. She’s smart. If we have any hope of surviving, we’ll need her brain.”</p><p>Thomas straightens up. “Why? But they’re extra bodies, they could <em>help </em>us-”</p><p>Jorge slices a hand through the air, effectively shutting Thomas up. “Stealth’s gonna work better in this city. People watch, people whisper. It’ll be easier to tiptoe around the Cranks that are past the Gone rather than slash our way through them like some wannabe warriors.”</p><p>Thomas nods at that – it makes sense, and if he doesn’t have to fight, doesn’t need to put the Gladers’ life at more needless risk, then Thomas is fine without a bloodbath.</p><p>“You’re hard to figure out,” Thomas says eventually. “Seems like warriors are exactly what you guys want to be, what with the knives and glass and machetes.”</p><p>For a long, wild moment, Thomas feels like he’s stepped too far past the invisible line they’ve drawn between them, but then Jorge is throwing his head back and laughing. The sound is surprisingly rough and pleasant. “Oh, you should be glad I like you, <em>muchacho</em>. Otherwise I would have killed you three times already.”</p><p>“Can you do that?”</p><p>“Do what?”</p><p>“Kill someone three times.”</p><p>“You can bet I’d figure out a way.”</p><p>“Then I’ll try to be nicer.”</p><p>Then Thomas grins, sticking out a hand. “Partners?” he asks.</p><p>Jorge looks at the proffered hand, inclines his head. They clasp hands, shaking once. “Partners.”</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>When they come back into the main room, Minho is back on his feet, hovering near Newt. Thomas resolutely doesn’t meet Minho’s eye – even after probably saving his life three times over in the past twenty-four hours, Thomas is still mad at him. He wouldn’t have had to bargain for Minho’s life if Minho hadn’t been such a prideful, pompous shank to begin with.</p><p>Before they had left the secluded office, Jorge had warned him not to say anything once they were out there, that getting away from the other Cranks would be tricky. Thomas had no choice but to put his trust into Jorge, to believe that he had a plan that would get his family to the Safe Haven.</p><p>“Listen up!” Jorge calls. “Bird-face and I have reached a decision. First, we need to get these people food.” He explains that it might seem weird to share their hard-earned food with a bunch of strangers, but that the Cranks needed the Gladers’ help, and the Gladers needed to be energized if they were going to be of any use. “Secondly, against my better judgement, Thomas here has convinced me <em>not </em>to kill the punk who attacked me.”</p><p>Thomas finally makes eye contact with Minho, but Minho is unsurprisingly looking over to the groaning Cranks who wanted a show, smiling and waving at the crowd. God, Minho can be so buggin’ <em>annoying</em>, sometimes. Thomas wants to shake him, maybe whack him upside the head and tell him to smarten up.</p><p>“Happy, are ya?” Jorge says. “That’s peachy. Means you’ll take the news well.”</p><p>Minho cuts a glance over to Jorge immediately. “What news?” Thomas also looks over at Jorge with curiosity, wondering what’s going to come out of his mouth.</p><p>“Well,” the Crank leader says matter-of-factly. “Once you’re all fed so you don’t die of starvation on us, you can have your punishment for attacking me.”</p><p>“Oh, yeah?” Minho says, eyebrows raised. He doesn’t look scared in the slightest. “And what would that be?”</p><p>“You punched me with both your fists. So we’re gonna cut a finger off each hand.”</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>Thomas just barely stops himself from saying something in protest, speaking up to say that wasn’t in their deal. But then he remembers Jorge telling him not to say anything, that they needed to get away from the other Cranks safely before making a break for it. Thomas hopes this is all a part of the act.</p><p>The Cranks behind Jorge all hoot and holler with glee, some raising their weapons in a sick toast. The side of Jorge’s mouth curls upwards, bolstered by his companions’ reactions. Thomas <em>really </em>hopes this is all part of the act.</p><p>Thomas can feel Minho trying to catch his gaze, but Thomas keeps his eyes on Jorge. He can only imagine the look on Minho’s face – shock like flint in his eyes, betrayal in the slope of his slack mouth.</p><p>Jorge manages to convince the other Cranks to wait for them in something called the Tower while him and Brenda bring the Gladers to get some food, and some relief seeps back into Thomas as the group disappears into the shadows of a long hallway. Thomas sees the relief mirrored in Jorge’s expression, but Jorge shakes his head slightly – <em>they still might hear</em>.</p><p>“Come on, <em>compadre</em>,” Jorge says, gesturing to Minho. “Let’s go get some grub.”</p><p>“Are you some kinda psycho, or somethin’? I’m not gonna go eat with you just so you can chop my fingers off.” Minho steps forward, intent to harm radiating from his very being. In a sweep of long brown hair, the girl that must be Brenda is there, stepping into Minho’s space and brandishing a razor-sharp piece of glass to his throat. Minho swallows, his Adam’s apple pressing briefly against the instrument, but enough for it to draw out a sliver of blood.</p><p>Minho freezes, then slowly raises his hands and steps back. Thomas thinks it’s the smartest thing he’s done all day.</p><p>Brenda drops her hand, wiping the shard on her pants to rid it of Minho’s blood. “I woulda killed you, you know. Charge Jorge again and I’ll sever an artery.”</p><p>Minho raises a hand to thumb the blood away, leaving a red smear across his neck. He looks at the blood, rubbing it between two fingers before gazing back up at Brenda. “Noted.”</p><p>Brenda looks satisfied with that answer, tucking the glass away and turning to Jorge.</p><p>Minho crosses his arms. “We’re still not going with you,” he says.</p><p>“Will you shut up, for once?” Thomas says, trying to convey something else entirely with his eyes. <em>Trust me</em>. “We’re going with them.”</p><p>Minho’s brows furrow, confusion creasing his forehead. He squints at Thomas, but seems to pick up that something is off. “Whatever,” he says finally. “Let’s go.”</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>Jorge and Brenda lead them to some type of underground subway station that is also a food storage facility. Thomas almost tries to make sense of it before a can of beans and a questionably clean spoon is thrust into his grip, and then he’s shovelling the contents into his mouth without a care for wherever they are.</p><p>Chuck sits next to him, Brenda on his other side. Her leg is pressed up against his, but Thomas can’t dislodge it with Chuck sitting so close beside him. He ignores the touch, focusing on the food.</p><p>As they eat, Thomas and Chuck listen to Brenda talk about the city, what life was like before the sun flares, learning that the disease ravaging the earth had been unleashed from a disease control center, and it was named the Flare from the very start. Thomas is just about to ask another question when Brenda interrupts him.</p><p>“Hold on a sec,” she says, raising a hand. “Something’s wrong. I think we have visitors.”</p><p>Thomas hadn’t heard anything, and when he looks over to Chuck, Chuck just shrugs his shoulders in response. The other Gladers continue to eat happily, Newt and Minho way on the other side of the hallway.</p><p>Jorge rushes to Brenda’s side, leaning over to whisper in her ear. Brenda is just moving to stand up when a crash explodes from down the hall, near the stairwell they had used to get down here. It’s a terrible sound, the grating of metal on metal, infrastructure ripping itself apart, cement crashing to the floor. A huge dust cloud from above blows inwards, choking off the air in the room and fogging out any light streaming in.</p><p>Through the haze, Thomas can just about see Minho and Newt coughing, Jorge pointing them in a certain direction and Newt pushing Minho towards the destroyed stairs. He makes to follow them, grabbing Chuck by the arm, but then Brenda is grabbing his other hand, grip surprisingly tight.</p><p>“Run!” she screams, starting to drag him away from the destruction and deeper underground.</p><p>“No!” Thomas yells, but her grip holds fast. “We have to follow my fr–”</p><p>Before he can even get the words out, the ceiling cracks and falls to the floor in a thunderous rush of sound. It cuts off the path Thomas was going to use to follow Minho and Newt and the rest of the Gladers. The ceiling fractures above them, a jagged line in the cement steadily making its way towards them, and Thomas realizes they’re out of time. He pushes Chuck in the direction Brenda wants them to go, running after them both, disappearing into the darkness.</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>The tunnels are dark and winding, lit only by the single beam of Brenda’s flashlight. The sounds of destruction have faded slowly, until Thomas can only hear their footsteps on the damp tile, their harsh breaths echoing off the stone walls as they continue to jog deeper and deeper underground.</p><p>Chuck and Thomas exchange a few glances – <em>should we be trusting her? </em>Chuck asks with his eyes, and Thomas shrugs, helpless.<em> We don’t really have much choice.</em></p><p>Eventually, they come to a stop as they reach a T intersection. Brenda holds up a hand, and they all flatten against one of the walls. She whips around the corner, shining the light down both of the hallways, but no one is waiting there to jump them. The three teenagers relax slightly, and then Brenda waves a hand to the boys, beckoning them to one of the corridors.</p><p>“This way,” she says.</p><p>“Hold on a minute,” Thomas replies. “We need to go back and find our friends.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Chuck agrees. “Who knows where they are by now, though.”</p><p>Brenda looks between the two of them, eyes calculating. “It isn’t safe.”</p><p>Thomas squints at her. “What do you mean?”</p><p>“When Jorge told the other Cranks to meet us at the Tower, it was pretty easy to determine that he meant to escape with you guys,” Brenda tells them.</p><p>“So, you think that they blew up the stairwell to get revenge? Kill us all?” Chuck asks.</p><p>Thomas really hopes that isn’t true – if it is, then it’s likely that Minho and the other Gladers had walked straight into them. Minho could be <em>dead</em> right now, and one of the last things Thomas said to him was to shut up. Oh, god. Guilt gnaws at his insides. If he and Minho never get a chance to make up – shuck, he doesn’t even want to think about the possibility of that happening.</p><p>Brenda just nods at Chuck’s assumption. “Plus, the town is full of other crazy Cranks, way past Gone. It’ll be safer for us to go through the Underground. Jorge’s probably leading the other Gladers to the mountains on the other side of town. We’ll just have to meet up with them somewhere along the way.”</p><p>It’s then that Chuck looks over at Thomas, a strange look on his face.</p><p>“Spit it out, Chuck,” Thomas says.</p><p>“Can’t you, like,” he glances over to Brenda for a moment before settling back on Thomas, “<em>contact </em>Aris.” Chuck emphasizes the <em>contact</em> in a weird way, eyebrows raising, head tilting.</p><p>Thomas knows what he’s talking about immediately, but he wishes Chuck had been a little bit more subtle, considering Brenda is just looking between them with a flat expression on her face.</p><p>“If you somehow have a cell phone on you, it won’t do you any good,” she says. “No service in the Scorch.”</p><p>“No, it’s… not a cell phone.”</p><p>Brenda raises an eyebrow. “Uh huh.”</p><p>Thomas doesn’t respond, just casts his mind back to one of the odd memory-dreams he keeps having, the one of him and Teresa alone in a room, her refusing to speak to him until he finally mastered the telepathy trick. There’s a technique that WICKED had taught him, to picture Teresa’s face against a sea of black nothingness, to push the words at her with his mind. He does the same thing now – Aris’ face superimposed onto a black background, and he forms the words that he wants to send in his mind, thrusting them towards him.</p><p>
  <em>Aris? Can you hear me? Is everyone okay?</em>
</p><p>Thomas bites his lip, waiting a few moments for a response.</p><p>Nothing.</p><p>
  <em>Aris! Where are you and the other Gladers? Did you make it out?</em>
</p><p>Again, no response.</p><p>Thomas makes a frustrated noise, shaking his head at Chuck. “He’s not answering.”</p><p>“Damn,” Chuck says. “I thought that would work.”</p><p>“Me too.”</p><p>“Um,” Brenda says.</p><p>Chuck and Thomas both look over at Brenda, who stares back at them, eyes narrowed and confused.</p><p>“Thomas is telepathic,” Chuck says.</p><p>Thomas smacks the back of his hand against Chuck’s arm, hard enough that it should sting. “Chuck!”</p><p>“Hey, sorry,” he says, “but how else were we supposed to explain that?”</p><p>Thomas clenches his jaw, consciously not curling his hands into fists at his sides. “I don’t know, but definitely not like that!”</p><p>“Sorry,” Chuck says again, eyes downcast.</p><p>Thomas sighs, completely deflating. He squeezes Chuck’s shoulder in a silent apology. “It was a good idea,” Thomas tells Chuck.</p><p>Then Chuck brightens considerably. “Maybe WICKED was the one to cause the explosion, and then they put a mind block in your brain, so we stay separated from the other Gladers,” he theorizes.</p><p>Thomas just stares at him. He didn’t like Brenda’s theory much, but he thinks he dislikes Chuck’s even more. Why would WICKED want to separate the Gladers into two groups? To turn them against each other? No way was he going to turn on Minho, even if the last thing they did was fight. All the anger Thomas harboured against him has all but evaporated. He just wants to see him again, see <em>all </em>the other Gladers. He hopes they’re okay.</p><p>Suddenly, the emotion coming to him in a rush, Thomas is extremely grateful that Chuck is here with him, that he’s not stuck alone with Brenda in the Underground.</p><p>“You know,” Brenda says, twirling her long hair around her index finger. “It would be easier to make it through this town with just the three of us.” She reaches out with her other hand to grab a hold of Thomas’ fingers. “Jorge told me about the cure before the ceiling caved in. Maybe us three can make a break for it and–”</p><p>“No,” Thomas says, not even entertaining the thought. He removes his hand from Brenda’s grip, and based on the hurt look on her face, he doesn’t do it as gently as he thought he did. He tries to soften the blow somehow. “We need to find the rest of them, they can help us make it through the city. Power in numbers, right?”</p><p>Brenda looks down at the floor, toeing the grout in the tile, pouting.</p><p>“Hey,” Thomas says. He takes her hand again, and he doesn’t know exactly why, he just knows that Brenda will probably respond to it. She does, gazing back up at Thomas, her lip wobbling. It makes her look very young, inexplicably reminding him of Chuck back in the early days of the Glade, teary and fearful. “We’re gonna get you that cure. You and Jorge both, along with the rest of us. You’ll be okay.”</p><p>Brenda surges forwards then, wrapping her arms around Thomas’ waist and squeezing tight. She nestles her face into his neck, nose cold as it presses against his overheated skin.</p><p>Thomas freezes, unsure as to what to do. He makes eye contact with Chuck above Brenda’s head. He bugs his eyes out, raising his brows. <em>What do I do??? </em>he screams with his eyes.</p><p>Chuck looks at him like he’s the dumbest shank to ever exist. It’s an expression he’s familiar with on Minho, but never before on Chuck.</p><p>Chuck mimes hugging the air, mouthing at him to <em>hug her back, idiot!</em></p><p>Thomas does, albeit awkwardly, putting his arms around her back and patting the top of her head gently. Chuck’s head drops back to gape at the ceiling, looking like he’s barely suppressing a groan at Thomas’ sheer idiocy.</p><p>“Promise me,” Brenda says, finally pulling away and stepping back. “Promise me that you’ll get me the cure. I don’t want to go crazy.”</p><p>“Of course,” Thomas says, even though he has no clue what WICKED is going to do once they all reach the Safe Haven. Chuck gives him a look like he knows exactly what Thomas is promising – absolutely nothing.</p><p>“We should keep going,” Chuck says, hitching the backpack Brenda had given him higher up on his shoulder. “Who knows what’s down here?”</p><p>As if Chuck’s words had summoned it, there’s a small crash of sound from down one of the hallways. Brenda immediately swivels the flashlight to shine down the corridor.</p><p>Thomas almost screams.</p><p>Just at the edge of the beam of light stands a lone Crank.</p><p>He’s butt ugly – skin marred with scabs and blisters and burn marks. His hair looks like it’s been torn out at the roots in large handfuls. For some unknown reason, the Crank is wearing a suit. In another life, it would’ve looked nice, but the white collared shirt could barely be considered white anymore, the black coat and pants pocked with holes, ripped along the seams. And – <em>god. </em>His nose has been sheared clean off. Thomas can see the fleshy insides of the Crank’s face, the inner workings of his nasal passage. If Thomas wasn’t terrified for his life – for Chuck’s, for Brenda’s – he might have gagged.</p><p>“Rose got my nose, I suppose,” the Crank giggles.</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>“Run!” Brenda screams for the second time that day, and they take off down the opposite hallway.</p><p>Chuck had thrown a can of something from his backpack, but it had only served to make the Crank angrier, and then three of his buddies had shown up. Suddenly, they were outnumbered.</p><p>Once again, Thomas and Chuck race after Brenda, weaving in and out of the dark corridors now that Brenda’s shut off the flashlight. Chuck keeps a hand fisted in Thomas’ shirt so they don’t lose each other as they stumble down the hallway. The Cranks are loud behind them, shouting to each other and giggling like mad. Something about the way they talk is very off-putting – there’s obviously something very wrong with them. They’re completely crazed, and Thomas doesn’t even want to think about how they’re managing to follow them in complete darkness.</p><p>There’s more twists and turns, and eventually, the psycho sounds from the Cranks fade into the distance.</p><p>“In here! There’s a little hiding spot I found once while exploring, the Cranks’ll never find it.” She directs them under a table, and Thomas can hear the swishing of Brenda’s fingers against the wall, then a short <em>crack</em>. Brenda disappears through the opening she created. Thomas shoves Chuck in next, then crawls through himself, pulling the square back into place before settling into the small compartment. There’s barely enough room for the three of them in here, sitting pretzeled together, legs drawn up to their ears. Thomas’ entire right side is leaning up on Chuck, his feet pressing against Brenda’s shins. He wishes he could see something, anything, half tempted to ask Brenda to turn on the flashlight. But then there’s sounds from outside the room, drawing closer.</p><p>They sit in silence for a long while, listening to the sounds get closer and closer before they draw away again. Thomas almost thinks they’re in the clear before there’s a voice from directly outside their hiding place, coming from completely nowhere.</p><p>“Little noses,” a voice singsongs. It’s the man from earlier, the leader of the pack of Cranks that are after them. “Where <em>are </em>you?”</p><p>Thomas tries not to hold his breath – a gasp for oxygen is just what they need to give away their position.</p><p>Then there’s a commotion from outside, a fight between the leader and the other Cranks, a woman and another man. They’re shouting at each other, repeating and echoing what they’re saying to each other, laughing and sounding way too happy to be hunting three teenagers down. Thomas shivers. Something is so extremely wrong with these Cranks – they’re not completely past the Gone, but definitely not as coherent as Brenda or Jorge.</p><p>What could be minutes or hours later, the voices recede, echoing off the walls and eventually fading into nothing. Brenda reaches out to place a hand on Thomas’ knee. <em>Stay where you are</em>.</p><p>They wait some more, and then finally Brenda switches on the flashlight. “I think they’re gone.”</p><p>“Hello, pretty noses.” Then a hand reaches through the opening in the wall and drags Thomas through, Thomas screaming the entire way.</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>Thomas gets his feet under him, but it’s for nothing, because without any warning, the Crank leader sends a sharp uppercut into his jaw. Thomas’ teeth crack together painfully, head flying back, and the force sends him falling into the hard surface of the wall. Brenda kneels next to him for a brief moment, making sure he’s alive, and Thomas sees a blur of motion out of the corner of his double vision.</p><p>Chuck has barrelled straight into the Crank with a battle cry, pushing them both to the floor with a dull <em>thud</em>. They roll around for a second, and then there’s a yell and a clatter, and Thomas watches a sharp-looking dagger skitter across the floor.</p><p>The Crank is scrabbling for it, cracked fingers searching against the grubby tile for his weapon, his other hand trying to block Chuck’s punches.</p><p>Thomas is moving before he realizes it, diving forwards and clutching the handle with both hands, and even as he’s done that, the Crank has overpowered Chuck and is now straddling him. Thick hands wrap around Chuck’s neck, and Chuck makes an aborted choking sound as the hands tighten.</p><p>Brenda nods at Thomas, and then sends a vicious kick to the side of the Crank’s head, knocking his hands loose from around Chuck’s throat. Another kick from Brenda and a shove from Chuck as he gets his bearings, and the Crank is flat on his back, blinking up at the ceiling, unseeing.</p><p>Thomas clutches the dagger tighter, mouth forming a tight line. Brenda doesn’t need to tell him what to do – he’s already made up his mind. This guy just tried to <em>murder</em> Chuck.</p><p>He drives the dagger down, straight into the Crank’s heart.</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>When Chuck asks Brenda to take them above ground, she doesn’t protest, just leads them through the empty hallways until they reach a dead end. A rusted ladder leads up to a trapdoor, and Thomas remembers the stairwell that led up to the Scorch, the trapdoor that they had all thought led to the sun. Seems like so long ago now, as if it all happened to someone else.  </p><p>Brenda takes the first rung. “Follow me.”</p><p>If Chuck had been hoping for the light after so long in the dark, he must be sorely disappointed. Night has fallen, stars twinkling down at them from above the skyscrapers.</p><p>Brenda weaves them between and within the buildings, avoiding certain parts of town and walking freely through other areas. They finally end up in an alleyway, sandwiched between three tall brick buildings. Thomas had protested, saying that staying in a place with only one exit seemed like a bad idea, but Brenda convinced him that none of the Cranks would ever come down there, and that the abandoned trucks would provide plenty of cover.</p><p>The three teenagers climb into the cab of one of the dilapidated transport trucks. The interior looks like it’s been ransacked for anything useful – even the steering wheel is missing, the place it’s supposed to be just a mess of burnt wires. The bench seat is just big enough for the three of them, Chuck to Thomas’ left in the driver’s seat and Brenda to his right.</p><p>Chuck props his feet up on the dash, and he looks absolutely ridiculous, almost folded in half, but he closes his eyes and gets comfortable nonetheless. Thomas slouches down further, eventually giving in and resting his head against Chuck’s shoulder.</p><p>It’s in that moment that Thomas realizes how much he misses Minho. This might be the longest they’ve ever gone without seeing each other since they woke up in the Box together. Thomas sighs as he closes his eyes to sleep, hoping against all hope that Minho is alive and alright in the town out there. On a whim, he calls out to Aris again, but again, he gets no response.</p><p>He promises to himself that he’ll find Minho tomorrow.</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>Thomas kicks himself awake, panting and sweating, the last vestiges of his nightmare slowly seeping away.</p><p>He had dreamed that Minho and Newt had been trapped in the Underground with that crazy Crank, except Newt hadn’t been quick enough to grab the knife and the Crank had brutally stabbed Minho until he was beyond recognizable. Then, bloody fingers clawed their way around Newt’s throat, throttling until Newt’s face turned purply-pale, eyes lifeless.</p><p>It had been startlingly vivid, and he wonders why his brain decided to come up with <em>that </em>wonderful dream.</p><p>“You okay?” Chuck whispers into the darkness.</p><p>Thomas looks up, worried that he had woken Chuck up, but when he sees the gleam of the moon in Chuck’s eyes and the way he’s staring out of the windshield into a brick wall, Thomas doesn’t think Chuck’s even fallen asleep yet.</p><p>“Yeah,” Thomas swallows.</p><p>“Nightmare?” Chuck asks, knowing.</p><p>Thomas had thought he was finally beyond nightmares. Guess getting separated from the love of his life in a high stakes situation, running away from certain death by Cranks, and watching his best friend get strangled was enough for the bad dreams to return.</p><p>“You too?” Thomas asks softly.</p><p>“Just keeping watch,” Chuck says.</p><p>“Chuck…” Thomas says. “You need to sleep.”</p><p>“I’m fine,” Chuck insists.</p><p>“Please,” Thomas says. “For me.”</p><p>Chuck sighs deeply, and Thomas knows he’s won. “Okay.”</p><p>Thomas stays awake until he can hear the familiar snoring sounds emanating from Chuck’s open mouth. The boy just doesn’t know how to breathe through his nose. Two years, and it’s a fact that’s never changed.</p><p>Thomas smiles down at Chuck, and for one long moment, he misses the Glade, a sharp ache in the centre of his chest. He misses Harvey drumming up a beat on bonfire nights, he misses Newt’s disgusting fermented cocktails, Clint’s honking laugh, Zart’s garden patch, George’s speeches, Nick’s rare smile. He thinks of Alby, jumping into the wall of Grievers, convinced that death would be better than returning to the way the world is now. In some ways, Thomas agrees with him, but that part is overpowered by the knowledge that there must be a <em>reason </em>for this suffering, that they’re going to make it out of the Scorch, this barren wasteland. That there’s a purpose for them out there, and it’s not here.</p><p>“You love him,” Brenda says, somehow without disturbing the calm of the truck cab.</p><p>“Like a brother,” Thomas agrees. He had suspected she was awake, but hadn’t wanted to be the first to break the silence.</p><p>“You killed that Crank,” she continues. “Saved all our lives.”</p><p>Shuck. Thomas <em>did </em>kill someone – he had almost forgotten. He waits for the guilt to set in, but is surprised when it doesn’t materialize. That Crank was going to kill Chuck, was going to kill them all, probably. “I’d do it again,” Thomas says, and he realizes it’s true. “To protect my family, I’d do anything.”</p><p>It’s quiet for a long while, and then Brenda says, “It must be nice to have a family.”</p><p>Thomas props his head up against the back of the seat, looking over to Brenda. She’s mostly obscured in shadows – it’s hard to see her expression. “Where’s your family?”</p><p>“They killed my dad,” she replies. “Gunned him down right in front of me.”</p><p>Thomas doesn’t need to ask to know she’s talking about WICKED.</p><p>“My mom left when I was young.” It’s then she looks over at Thomas, and faint light reflects in her eyes. “No siblings.”</p><p>For some reason, Thomas opens up his mouth and starts talking about his own sister, about Teresa. He tells Brenda about the Maze, about Teresa coming up in the Box last, a girl being a complete shock to the Glader’s system. He recounts their escape, tells her about Alby getting ripped apart, about the code and the Griever Hole, that only half of them ended up making it out.</p><p>It’s silent after that, both of them absorbing the terrible things that WICKED had done to them. What they will continue to do to them.</p><p>“Well, wasn’t that joyful,” Thomas says dryly.</p><p>Brenda huffs a laugh. “You didn’t sugarcoat it. I appreciate that.”</p><p>Thomas smirks. “Anytime.”</p><p>Brenda reaches out to grasp Thomas’ hand, squeezing once before letting go. Then she folds her legs up underneath her, laying her head against the glass of the window, closing her eyes.</p><p>Thomas shifts, getting comfortable again, then does the same.</p><p>He doesn’t sleep. He misses Minho.</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>When Thomas opens his eyes next, it’s to the bright light of morning, to the stifling heat in the cab of the truck. The air is stale with their morning breath, and his skin is clammy with cooling sweat.</p><p>He rubs his eyes and stretches, looking over at each of his companions. Chuck and Brenda are both still asleep, breaths calm and even. Thomas is amused to note that Brenda also sleeps with her mouth open. He’s stiff from sleeping upright twice in a row, but invigorated to get up and move, to find the other Gladers, to be reunited with Minho.</p><p>He stretches again, forcing out a jaw-cracking yawn when he sees it. A sheet of dusty metal, riveted into the brick wall outside. A sign that looks extremely familiar, considering he ran past them daily in the Maze for the past two years.</p><p>Except this one doesn’t say WORLD IN CATASTROPHE – KILLZONE EXPERIMENT DEPARTMENT.</p><p>Instead, it says: THOMAS, YOU’RE THE REAL LEADER.</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>Thomas scrambles out of the truck’s cab, trampling over a sleeping and peaceful Chuck without even hesitating.</p><p>“Hey– What–?”</p><p>Chuck follows him up to the metal plaque, almost falling flat on his face as he gets out of the truck, clumsy from sleepiness. There’s a moment where they both take in the words.</p><p>“That’s trippy,” Chuck says.</p><p>There’s a slam of a door behind them, and Thomas whips around to see Brenda climbing down from her side of the truck. “I’m sorry, guys, I should’ve told you.”</p><p>“What is this?” Thomas asks.</p><p>“I was waiting for the right time to tell you,” Brenda begins, putting her hands in her pockets. “Ever since I found out what your name was. Same with Jorge. It’s probably why he decided to take his chances and go with you through the city and to this Safe Haven of yours.”</p><p>“Brenda, what are you <em>talking </em>about?”</p><p>She finally meets Thomas’ eyes and Chuck’s in turn. “These signs are all over the city. All of them say exactly the same thing.”</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>The bass is pumping, loud enough that Thomas can feel the beat in his chest. Cranks are bouncing and bobbing throughout the makeshift nightclub, writhing against each other, none of it even close to resembling dancing. If it weren’t for the pistol currently being shoved into his lower back, Thomas would be running in the opposite direction, by now.</p><p>They’re all forced to dance, lights flashing and criss-crossing through the dark, smoky air.</p><p>Drinks are shoved into their hands, and Thomas plans to dump his on the floor the minute the Cranks turn around, but then the pistol is back, except this time, it’s pointing directly at Chuck’s stomach.</p><p>Thomas pours the contents down his throat without hesitating, and it burns all the way down. It reminds him of Newt’s mixed drinks, and he wonders why he ever thought he missed them. That was <em>god awful</em>. Chuck and Brenda follow Thomas’ lead, tipping back the amber liquid into their own mouths. Brenda only winces slightly, but Chuck coughs, slamming on his own chest with a closed fist. He never could handle Newt’s cocktails, and that drink must have been five times stronger.</p><p>The three of them bob along to the music in a tight circle, but soon the atmosphere goes swimmy, and Chuck splits into two people. “Oh, man, what was in that?”</p><p>“Bliss!” one of the Cranks calls over helpfully. “Enjoy the trip.”</p><p>Thomas looks over at the Crank who had spoken, and his mouth gapes like a maw, stretching unnaturally. Blackness edges in at the corners of his vision. The music slows and thickens like a warped vinyl player, the singing voice growing deep and drawn out.</p><p>“We… need… to get… out of here…” Chuck is saying, but he sounds a million miles away, down a long tunnel that Thomas has no hope of reaching.</p><p>“Good… idea…” Thomas manages, tongue heavy, but then his mind is falling away, succumbing to the darkness.</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>“Thomas!”</p><p>A voice is calling out to him, as if from underwater. He recognizes the voice, but the name is just escaping him, floating on the edges of his mind.</p><p>“Thomas!”</p><p>There it is again, and now he knows who the voice belongs to. God, he wishes Chuck would stop shouting. It’s making it feel as if a thousand nails are being dug into his brain.</p><p>“Thomas, if you don’t wake up, I shuckin’ swear…”</p><p>Oh, Chuck wants him to wake up. He supposes he could do that.</p><p>Thomas blinks his eyes open, the light bright and stabbing. It intensifies the pain in his head tenfold. Belatedly, he seems to realize that he’s taped to a chair, the binding holding surprisingly well as Thomas tests out the give.</p><p>“Thomas! Oh, dude, I thought you were dead.”</p><p>“Nope,” Thomas says, his mouth unbelievably dry. “Unfortunately, I am still alive.”</p><p>“Hey, don’t joke about that,” Chuck says, tone reproachful.</p><p>Thomas chances a look over to where Chuck’s voice is coming from, but it still makes his brain slosh around in his head, and Thomas winces. Brenda and Chuck are sat in opposite corners of what looks like an unfinished basement, both bound by the same tape around Thomas’ wrists and legs. The only difference between them is that Brenda has tape slapped over her mouth, tear tracks down her cheeks. Chuck is steadily shuffling across the floorboards, using the heels from his shoes to hop his butt forward. He’s trying to rip at the tape binding his hands together with his teeth as he goes. If it were any other situation, Thomas might find it funny.</p><p>“The Cranks from earlier came down and turned on the light, but left when they couldn’t get you to wake up. I think they figured out that your name is Thomas. I don’t know how much time we have before they come back, but it sounds like something’s happening,” Chuck explains, and he’s finally reached Brenda. He manages to rip the tape off her mouth, and then she’s biting at the tape too. Chuck’s bent in half, gnawing at the tape around his wrists while also using his free fingers to rip at the bindings holding his feet together.</p><p>It’s then that Thomas hears the thumps from the floor above. He thought earlier that it was just leftover bass music from the club scene, but it’s getting steadily closer.</p><p>
  <em>Thump.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Thump.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Thump.</em>
</p><p>Thomas imagines bodies hitting the floor, and finally understands why Chuck and Brenda are in such a rush to get out of their tape bindings. Whoever is causing that ruckus is heading straight for them.</p><p>The door at the top of the stairs swings open, then there’s footsteps, heavy and hard as they thunder down. A cold panic floods through Thomas, and he can only wait to see who emerges from the dark hallway.</p><p>Finally, <em>finally</em>, someone steps into the light.</p><p>For a moment, Thomas thinks that he’s dreamt up the entire scenario completely, that the drug he’d been given has conjured up Minho, dirty and bloody, burn marks on his face. A gash splits his eyebrow in two. He has knives in both hands like a vengeful angel.</p><p>But then he opens his mouth and says, “If you wanted me to tie you up, Thomas, all you had to do was ask,” and Thomas knows that Minho’s really here.</p><p>“Minho!” Thomas breathes, and even as the word leaves his mouth, Newt appears out of the darkness behind Minho, along with Aris.</p><p>“What, not even a bloody hello for the rest of us?” Newt deadpans.</p><p>The two boys head over to Chuck and Brenda, producing something sharp and getting straight to work in cutting away their bindings.</p><p>Minho smiles at Thomas, and it’s such a welcome sight, even if he looks absolutely terrible. There are bags under his eyes, and the gash in his forehead is sluggishly dripping blood down the side of his face, but Thomas has never been more relieved because Minho is <em>alive</em>.</p><p>Minho steps forward to cut at the tape holding Thomas to the chair. He frees Thomas’ feet first, then his wrists, and as soon as his hands are free, Thomas is pulling Minho in close, kissing him hard. Minho’s hands make their way around Thomas’ lower back, and he hauls him upright, allowing Thomas to wrap his arms around Minho’s neck and kiss him hungrily.</p><p>Thomas licks into Minho’s mouth, not even caring that he probably tastes like stale alcohol. Fingers and palms clutch and grasp at clothes and skin, a wordless <em>are you okay? </em>and a silent <em>yes, I’m fine</em>.</p><p>“What… How…” he says between frantic kisses, hands on either side of Minho’s face. “I’m sorry about how we left things, I love you, I love you, I love you.”</p><p>Minho covers Thomas’ hands with his own, tipping their foreheads together. “I’m sorry too. God, I love you so much.”</p><p>“Hey Brenda,” Chuck says from somewhere to Thomas’ right side. “You feel like kidnapping me again, so I don’t have to look at this klunk?”</p><p>Brenda splutters, “I didn’t <em>kidnap </em>you!”</p><p>“I know, but <em>please?” </em>Chuck says. “I mean, <em>look </em>at this.”</p><p>Thomas finally pulls away from Minho, letting their hands drop, but twisting a finger around one of Minho’s, not wanting to break contact quite yet.</p><p>Brenda grins at them. “I see now why you didn’t want to leave them. Your family.”</p><p>Thomas nods, the corner of his lips tugging up without his consent. Shuck, he’s just so happy that he’s alive, that Minho’s alive, that–</p><p>“Is everyone okay?” Thomas asks, turning to Minho.</p><p>“Yeah,” Minho says. “Still fifteen of us, plus Jorge and Brenda, here.”</p><p>“Is anyone going to explain how you all found us?” Chuck exclaims.</p><p>As they climb the stairs back into the club’s main room, Newt explains that Jorge had been leading them through the city, avoiding Cranks and finding food. The boys had split up and spread out, spying around the city to see if they could spot the three of them.</p><p>“Frypan was peeking around the corner into that alleyway when those shanks pulled the gun on you,” Minho takes over. “He came back and told us what happened, we got mad-”</p><p>“<em>You </em>got mad,” Newt corrects.</p><p>“<em>I </em>got mad,” Minho adjusts, “then we <em>all </em>got mad, planned the ambush, and came to get ya.”</p><p>“Wasn’t that hard,” Aris says. “Most of the Cranks were either wasted or passed out.”</p><p>“Hey, speaking of Aris,” Minho says, too casually. “Why didn’t you answer his call after we got separated? I thought you’d <em>died </em>when he couldn’t reach you.”</p><p>“He bawled like a baby,” Newt says.</p><p>“I did <em>not</em>,” Minho insists.</p><p>“He did,” Aris confirms.</p><p>Thomas snickers, leaning in to press a quick kiss to Minho’s cheek to pacify him.</p><p>“Thomas <em>did</em> try contacting Aris. No response,” Chuck says.</p><p>“And if Aris tried to reach me, I didn’t get anything,” Thomas agrees.</p><p>“We were underground, do you think that interfered with your telepathic brain waves?” Brenda wonders, joining the conversation for the first time.</p><p>“It’s not a <em>cell phone</em>, how many times do I have to <em>say it?</em>” Thomas laments with a sigh.</p><p>Chuck makes a contemplative sound. “I still think it was WICKED. They put a block on the whole telepathy thing to make it harder for the two groups to find each other.”</p><p>Minho laces his and Thomas’ hands together fully at that remark, clutching tight, knowing that Thomas will appreciate the extra comfort.</p><p>They’ve made it into the main room by now, Jorge and the other Gladers standing over the people they had mowed through to get down to the basement, knives and other sharp objects held at the ready. Thomas sees two of the three Cranks that had forced him into the club, and his heart drops as he notices that the one that had the gun is not one of them.</p><p>He tugs Minho closer by their linked hands, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “Did you see a tall guy, blonde hair, leader-type? What happened to him?”</p><p>“Must’ve gotten away,” Minho says. “Why? You worried about him?”</p><p>Thomas looks around, lowering his voice even further. “He had a gun.”</p><p>“We’ll be out of the city in an hour, babe,” Minho tells him. Then he raises his voice and addresses the whole room, gently releasing Thomas’ hand. He picks his way through the crowd, over to Jorge on the other side of the room. “Listen up! Don’t follow us, and you’ll be fine. Follow us, and you’ll be dead. Easy choice to make, don’t ya think?”</p><p>Several Gladers back away, waving knives back and forth menacingly, but none of the Cranks make any move to get up. They all reconvene outside in the alleyway, Minho and Jorge keeping watch as everyone files out of the door.</p><p>“We’re going to make a run for it,” Minho is saying, standing at Jorge’s side as they follow the rest of Gladers out to where they’ve gathered. “There’s only about a mile left, and the Cranks aren’t so hard to fight after all, so let’s–”</p><p>“Hey!”</p><p>The shout comes from behind them, loud and screechy, filled with lunacy. Thomas spins around to see Blondie standing at the mouth of the alleyway, arm extended. His white-knuckled fingers hold the pistol, steady and calm. It’s pointed directly at Thomas.</p><p>Before anyone can move, Blondie fires, the resulting explosion rocking through the narrow alley with a thunderous <em>boom</em>.</p><p>Pain rips through Thomas’ left shoulder, and even as the impact knocks him back to the ground, Thomas looks down to see the bright bloom of blood spilling down from his shirt, as if in slow motion. His head cracks painfully on the pavement, and sound rushes back in all at once.</p><p>Thomas hears the gunshot go off again, wincing at the sound, then a clatter of metal, followed by grunts and punching. He looks to the side to see that Blondie’s been tackled to the ground, and Minho is on top of him, punching the living crap out of him, grunting with every impact of skin against skin.</p><p>Chuck’s disembodied head floats in his vision. “Thomas!” he’s shouting, hands shaking his head back and forth, and it does nothing to help the headache swelling in his brain. “Thomas, you gotta stay awake!”</p><p>But even as Chuck says it, he’s thinking to himself <em>please pass out, make it go away.</em></p><p>“I can get that slug out of him,” Thomas hears Jorge say above him. “But we’ll need a fire.”</p><p>“We can’t do that <em>here</em>.” Was that Aris?</p><p>“Minho, I think that Crank’s good and shucked, now. Can you stop being a Neanderthal and help us over here?” Thomas thinks that’s Newt, he can’t imagine any of the other boys talking to Minho like that.</p><p>“We need to get out of this shuck city.” Chuck again.</p><p>“Okay, help me carry him.” Definitely Minho.</p><p>“You can carry him yourself,” Chuck says. “I’ve seen it.”</p><p>“Not <em>out of a shuckin’ city, </em>Chuck!”</p><p>Then there are hands gripping his legs, his arms, jostling his shoulder, and Thomas screams. Finally, the darkness washes over him in a wave, taking the pain with it.</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>Thomas wakes in flashes, only catching snippets of conversation each time, the pain somehow intensifying every time he blinks his eyes open.</p><p>“You better hold your boyfriend down.”</p><p>“I– I don’t know if I can be here. I can’t watch him like this.”</p><p>“Toughen up, <em>muchacho. </em>Hold his arms down. Hey, you! Get his legs.”</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>He feels feverish, and truly <em>cold </em>for the first time in a while. The pain is unbearable, and he curses the fact that he woke up at all.</p><p>“He’s gonna pull through.”</p><p>“Don’t say klunk you don’t mean.”</p><p>A pause.</p><p>“Fine. The wound is infected. If he doesn’t get proper medicine soon, he’s going to die.”</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>There’s a hand in his, and for a moment he thinks it’s Minho, but then he realizes the hand is small and smooth. Definitely not Minho.</p><p>“You need to get better,” Brenda says. “Your family needs you.”</p><p><em>His family</em>. He doesn’t think he’s going to be much help to them if this pain doesn’t subside soon. Before, it had been localized near his shoulder, but it’s spread like wildfire through his veins, his whole body shaky and aching.</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>There’s commotion all around him, a whir of machinery, the wind whipping at his hair and clothes. A shuck rock is <em>still</em> digging into his lower back, but Thomas doesn’t have the energy to move. Someone yells the word <em>Berg! </em>and then everything descends into chaos.</p><p>There’s a deep thrumming in the air, steadily increasing until it feels like the vibrations are coming from his own bones, rattling his jaw and eardrums, zipping down his spine. The wind picks up even more, and Thomas worries that another storm is coming, that he won’t be able to survive it this time, but when Thomas blinks his eyes open, the sky is perfectly blue.</p><p>Minho’s beside him, but facing away from him, and he’s shouting against the roaring of the wind and the clanking of machinery. Thomas thinks he hears something along the lines of, “You can’t have him!” but then Minho’s knocked away like an annoying fly, replaced by two things straight out of a horror movie.</p><p>Panic surges through Thomas. Two people crowd around him, covered head to toe in a type of green, bag-like fabric, something like gas masks with massive goggles secured to their faces. They look purely evil, and when Thomas sees the writing on the chests of their hazmat suits, he knows why.</p><p>WICKED.</p><p>The two bag men pick him up much like Chuck and Minho had, except with much less grace, and Thomas screams. He had almost gotten used to the constant stream of agony coursing through him each day, but this pain is on a different level. It hurts too much to struggle against them, so he goes limp.</p><p>He’s not sure if he’s the one screaming or if it’s Minho. Maybe it’s both.</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>Thomas is sick of blinking into bright light.</p><p>Back in the Glade, the sun never annoyed him half as much as it seems to do in the Scorch.</p><p>But this light is different. Fluorescent. White.</p><p>Hmm. Not the sun then. That’s odd.</p><p>He cracks his eyes open for a quick moment, and when he squeezes his eyes shut again, the afterimage of a bulb floats in the darkness. There’s whispers and voices coming from above him, undecipherable. The clicking of metal against metal, scraping, the swishing of weird fabric.</p><p>Thomas forces his eyes open again, takes in a tray just in the corner of his vision, medical instruments like a metal bowl, syringes, a scalpel splayed across it.</p><p>A <em>hospital</em>. They’d taken him to a hospital. What the hell?</p><p>No way a place this clean exists in the Scorch. They must have taken him someplace else, somewhere far away. He has a half-thought of somehow escaping when no one is looking, commandeering some type of vehicle, just getting <em>away</em>. But he knows he would never actually do it. Minho is still back in the Scorch, along with Newt and Chuck and all the other Gladers. Jorge and Brenda too. He can’t leave them behind, not ever.</p><p>It’s then that a face enters his vision, a white hazmat suit replacing the green one from earlier, but similar in the design and shape. Through the goggles, he sees eyes that he thinks belong to a woman.</p><p>“Can you hear me?” she asks.</p><p>Thomas tries to nod, but he doesn’t know if he actually manages it.</p><p>“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” she says, face disappearing, looking away. “How’d a working gun get into that city? Do you know how much rust and gunk must have been on that bullet? Not to mention the germs.”</p><p>The lady sounds <em>furious</em>.</p><p>Thomas getting shot wasn’t supposed to happen? So they step in to save his butt? That makes absolutely zero sense to his foggy brain. But then a memory – a dream? – pops back into his mind, one of him and Teresa spying on the Creators, where one of them had asked <em>what if he dies? </em>and the other one responding <em>he won’t, we won’t let him.</em></p><p>A man replies, “Just get on with it. We need to send him back – quickly.”</p><p>There’s a click of a scalpel, pain blossoming in his shoulder, and the darkness overcomes him.</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>When he awakes next, he’s still in the sterile surgery room, and the very first thing he notices is the absence of pain.</p><p>Oh, good god, Thomas could cry at the sheer relief he feels. He’s okay. He’s not going to die.</p><p>Then there’s the sound of voices, maybe the same man and woman from earlier.</p><p>“Are we sure this doesn’t screw anything up?” the man says.</p><p>“Positive,” the woman replies. “If anything, it might stimulate new patterns in the killzone, perhaps a bonus? I can’t see it interfering with the results we’re hoping for.”</p><p>Another woman’s voice joins the mix, high and clear. “How many of the ones left do you think are viable Candidates?”</p><p>There’s a sigh. “Only about seven. Thomas here is by far our greatest hope. He responds to the Variables extremely well.”</p><p>Killzone? Candidates? Variables? It’s too much to comprehend, let alone think about.</p><p>“Wait, I think I just saw his eyes move,” the man says.</p><p>“Oh, who cares if he’s listening? Don’t get too excited, Thomas. We’re about to dump you right back where you came from.”</p><p>The news doesn’t disappoint him at all – if anything, he’s happy that he’s all fixed up and is going right back to where Minho and the other Gladers are.</p><p>Then the third lady’s voice is back. “It’s what you would have wanted us to do.”</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>The mysterious people are true to their word.</p><p>When he blinks his eyes open next, it’s to the sound of rushed voices, footsteps, faces pressing in at his vision on all sides.</p><p>Everyone speaks at once – <em>What was that all about? </em>– <em>Where’d they take you? </em>– <em>Are you alright? </em>– <em>Have fun in the Berg? </em>–<em> How’s the shoulder? </em>– but Minho just holds out a hand. Thomas takes it, and Minho hauls him to his feet, out of the weird canvas bag WICKED had dropped him here in.</p><p>Thomas doesn’t know who moves first, but in a rush of movement, they’re hugging, Minho’s strong arms tight around his back. Thomas cups one hand around the back of Minho’s head, pressing his face into the side of his neck. His eyes close, just breathing Minho completely in as they embrace. <em>God, </em>Thomas doesn’t even know how long he’s been gone, but he missed Minho like a physical ache in his chest. They stay like that for as long as the rest of the Gladers will allow, but then the other boys are demanding the story of what happened, about where he’d been taken, how he’s miraculously been healed.</p><p>Minho leads everyone back to their apparent shack in the middle of nowhere – they’re considerably closer to the mountains now – and Thomas doesn’t know how the structure is still standing or why it’s here. He’s grateful for the shade nevertheless.</p><p>Thomas recounts everything he remembers: waking up in the hospital, the woman saying that Thomas getting shot wasn’t supposed to happen, the whole thing about the killzone and the patterns and the Candidates, about how getting sent back into the Scorch was ‘what he would have wanted.’</p><p>Newt stands, as if he can’t hold in his sudden energy. “So, we’re all bloody Candidates for <em>something</em>. But the gun and the rusty bullet weren’t part of their Variables. If Thomas is supposed to die, it isn’t supposed to come from a bloody gunshot wound infection.”</p><p>Thomas nods. That sums it up pretty nicely.</p><p>“This means they’re watching us,” Minho says.</p><p>“We knew that already, though,” Thomas replies, and Minho raises a brow, conceding the point.</p><p>Jorge clears his throat. “Why is Thomas so special though? All those signs in the city, and then when you get all sicky-sicky, they swoop in to save you. No offense, <em>muchacho</em>, just curious as to what makes you better than all your friends here.”</p><p>“I’m not special,” Thomas says immediately. He doesn’t want to think about the signs that had been in the city, naming him the real leader. “But they did say something about me being the best Candidate.”</p><p>“I think that’s the definition of special, <em>hermano</em>,” Jorge says.</p><p>Thomas shrugs helplessly. “I don’t think it’s about that,” he says truthfully. “They need me for something else.”</p><p>“And what would that be?” Chuck asks.</p><p>Thomas meets his eyes, then pulls down his shirt to reveal the tattoo WICKED had given him at the start of all this. Somehow, throughout everything, he’s been able to keep it covered and hidden from the rest of the Gladers, but honestly, it doesn’t matter anymore. Thomas knows that whatever is supposed to happen is going to happen.</p><p>“I wasn’t supposed to die from the bullet,” he says. “I’m supposed to be killed by Group B.”</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>“That was dramatic,” Minho says, pressing up close against Thomas’ side.</p><p>The rest of Gladers are spread out throughout the shack, trying to get some shut eye despite the bright sun and sweltering heat. They plan to head out as soon as night falls, make it as close to the mountains as possible before day breaks. They have five days left to make it to the Safe Haven.</p><p>Thomas doesn’t bother responding to Minho’s comment, just shifts so his body is turned towards Minho, resting his head on his shoulder. He’s growing more tired as time goes on. Maybe it’s his body healing, maybe it’s the warmth in the shack – either way, he’s ready to pass out.</p><p>He reaches out for Minho’s hand with both of his, pulling it into his lap. Minho watches distantly, graciously allowing Thomas to fiddle with his fingers, the wrinkles of his knuckles, the sharp edges of his fingernails.</p><p>“Love you,” Thomas says, pressing a kiss to the rough skin.</p><p>“I’m happy you’re alive,” Minho says. He reaches over with his free hand to pull Thomas’ head to his mouth, lips soft against Thomas’ temple. Thomas closes his eyes, knows that means <em>I love you too.</em></p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>The sun is still high in the sky when a girl’s voice wakes him up. It takes him a few moments of searching the shack for Brenda, wondering why she just called his name, when he realizes that the sound didn’t come from inside the room. It’s from his mind.</p><p>Teresa.</p><p>
  <em>Tom. Don’t try to talk back, just listen.</em>
</p><p>Before Thomas can even think about formulating a reply, Teresa barrels on.</p><p>
  <em>Something terrible is going to happen to you tomorrow. It’s going to be awful, and you’re going to be hurt and scared. But you have to trust me. No matter what happens, no matter what you see, no matter what you hear, no matter what you think, you need to trust me. I won’t be able to speak with you.</em>
</p><p>A pause.</p><p>
  <em>I have to go. You won’t hear from me again, not until we’re back together.</em>
</p><p>And then she’s gone, her presence disappearing from his mind completely. He had almost forgotten what that emptiness had felt like after so long of not hearing from her.</p><p>Thomas looks down to where Minho has moved to in his sleep. He’s curled on his side, back pressed against Thomas’ legs where they’re stretched along the floor.</p><p>He has the sudden urge to wake him up, to tell him about the odd warning from his sister, but manages to refrain. Minho needs to sleep. There’s no point to have them both unable to fall back asleep in this miserable heat.</p><p>Days and days of silence, and then this. Thomas doesn’t know what to make of it. Teresa seems sure that they’ll end up back together – is that supposed to give him some sort of hope? That he’s going to go through this terrible thing but still come out okay on the other side? Him and Teresa both?</p><p>Thomas sighs, a deep exhale of breath that goes on forever. It just seems like one thing after another – no break, no reprieve. But he’s honestly grateful that the bad thing is going to be happening to him and no one else. Minho, Newt, Chuck, Frypan, Brenda, the other Gladers, even Aris and Jorge, are going to be alright.</p><p>His eyes close against the bright light of mid-afternoon, but he doesn’t fall back asleep until the sun is slowly sinking towards the horizon.</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>Newt’s the one who shakes him awake, handing him a granola bar as he plops down onto the floor next to him. It’s the spot that Minho was in, but now Thomas can see him across the shack chatting with Jorge, packing a few backpacks with the remainders of their food, a plethora of weapons spread out on the table next to them. Thomas has no idea where they got those. Must have been an eventful couple of days without him.</p><p>“How’ve you been, Tommy?” Newt asks. “How’s the shoulder?”</p><p>Thomas rolls his shoulder back, rubbing at the bandages WICKED had left him with when they dumped him back in the Scorch. “It’s great, actually,” he admits. “Pain’s pretty much gone. Feel good as new.”</p><p>“That’s good.”</p><p>“How long was I gone?” Thomas asks.</p><p>Newt looks over at him, gaze knowing. “Few days. I could tell Minho wanted to plant his butt in the ground and wait for them to bring you back, but he’s not a total idiot. He knew we couldn’t afford to lose the time. Plus, I think Jorge helped to convince him somehow that you weren’t dead. Who knows.”</p><p>“Jorge’s the one who knew it was a Berg, right?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Newt answers. “That’s the thing that drops all the Cranks in the quarantine zones, apparently.”</p><p>“That’s so weird,” Thomas says.</p><p>“You know,” Newt says, sounding thoughtful. “They broke their own rules for you.”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“The rules were that there <em>were </em>no rules. Two boys got their heads eaten off by an alien metal ball, and eleven more were burnt to a crisp before we even made it to the town – you didn’t see any Bergs flying in to save <em>their </em>butts, did you?”</p><p>Thomas looks steadfastly down to the floor. He hates that WICKED has somehow deemed him the ‘special’ one. Somehow more worth saving than any of the other Gladers. He <em>hates </em>it.</p><p>Newt seems to sense he’s hit a nerve. “I’m not saying it to make you feel guilty or anything. Just stating facts.”</p><p>That just makes it worse. That it’s a <em>fact </em>that Thomas’ life is worth more in the eyes of WICKED. He knows he worked with them, but that just adds to the sick feeling growing in his stomach.</p><p>Newt claps a hand on his shoulder, using the leverage to push himself to his feet. “I’m glad you’re not dead, Tommy.” He gestures to the uneaten granola bar, still wrapped in Thomas’ hand. “Eat up.”</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>They set off just as the sun dips below the horizon, the dusty orange land glowing almost purple as they trudge along. The mountains ahead slowly become jagged peaks of shadow, stretching up and up into the darkening sky. The flat valley seems to continue on forever, until it erupts upwards in sheer cliffs and steep slopes. Thomas hopes they won’t have to climb up it, that a clear path through the rock face will become noticeable as they make their way closer.</p><p>Thomas is cramped and tired, and he wishes he could run to blow off some steam. The conversation with Newt earlier still swirls around in his brain. He can’t stop thinking about it.</p><p>Sure, Thomas worked for WICKED, but that was over two years ago, now. Between then and now, forty-six boys have lost their lives. Forty-six boys that Thomas knew and talked to and laughed with. All for them to become fodder in WICKED’s experiments. And for what? A cure for the Flare?</p><p>In his memory-dreams, there’s the repeated mention of <em>patterns</em>. Patterns in the killzone. How studying the boys will somehow lend itself to the cure.</p><p>But they’re still in Phase Two of the Trials. WICKED is still studying their brains, their decisions, their actions. Thomas doesn’t get how there can be a cure waiting for them at the Safe Haven if the cure is supposed to come from the Trials. The Trials aren’t over yet.</p><p>He’s suddenly worried for Brenda, and deep down, for Jorge too. They’re depending on him to get the cure, depending on the belief that WICKED will actually let them into the Safe Haven to receive it.</p><p>Thomas hates WICKED more than he thinks he’s hated anything in his life. He supposes he understands their intentions – what’s more noble than the last surviving nations of the world banding together to find a cure for the Flare? But doing it in such a way that results in so much death, torture, suffering, and trauma… Thomas will never understand it. He will <em>never </em>understand why so many of his friends had to die. And he’ll never forgive WICKED for it.</p><p>Chuck steps closer to him then, and Thomas thinks that he’s going to say something, but he stays silent. The <em>crunch crunch crunch </em>of the ground beneath them fills the empty air.</p><p>Together, they walk on.</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>It’s several hours later when Thomas finds himself next to Minho, and he’s itching to tell him about the warning he got from Teresa. They’re at the front of the pack, leading the group closer and closer to the mountains. Behind them, Chuck and Brenda are quietly conversing, but the rest of the boys have run out of words to say. Even Jorge, who always seems like he has something to talk about, has fallen silent.</p><p>“Teresa spoke to me last night,” Thomas says, deciding to just jump straight into it.</p><p>Minho cuts a glance over to him, but Thomas can barely make out his expression in the dark. “Seriously?” he says. “What’d she say?”</p><p>“It was a warning,” Thomas begins. “She said that something really awful is going to happen to me. But that no matter what, I need to trust her. That everything will be okay in the end.”</p><p>“What kind of klunk is that?” Minho says.</p><p>“I don’t know.”</p><p>“So?” Minho asks. “Do you trust her?”</p><p>Thomas thinks about that for a long moment. “Do you remember back in the dorm, that piece of paper that labelled her the Betrayer?”</p><p>Minho nods, Thomas just making out the small movement. “Yeah.”</p><p>“I thought that the Betrayal scenario was in that shack before we made it to the town, that she had somehow broken free of WICKED’s control long enough to stop it.”</p><p>“But now you’re thinking that it’s the thing Teresa warned you would happen today,” Minho says.</p><p>That’s exactly what Thomas thinks. “She’s my sister,” he says. “I trust her.”</p><p>“Alright,” Minho says. “If you trust her, I guess I trust her too. Doesn’t mean I’m not going to put up a fight, though, when it comes right down to it.”</p><p>Thomas wouldn’t expect anything less.</p><p>They’re getting closer to the mountains now, maybe only a few hundred feet away. The sky has lightened considerably, the stars winking out as a new day is brought forth. But as Thomas looks ahead, he stops cold. Someone behind him bumps into him and stumbles to the side, but Thomas doesn’t look to see who it was.</p><p>Because halfway between him and the mountains stands a girl, her long, dark hair flowing in the light breeze. In her hand is a wood staff, the tip fastened with a nasty looking blade. She’s walking straight towards them.</p><p>It’s Teresa.</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>She comes to a stop several feet away from them.</p><p>“Which one of you is Thomas?” she says.</p><p>Even before the last word is out of her mouth, twenty or so other girls rise up behind her, seemingly from nowhere. They all hold some type of weapon – a bow and arrow, a spear, a long-bladed knife, another bow.</p><p><em>Group B</em>, Thomas’ brain helpfully supplies.</p><p>Thomas narrows his eyes. Is this part of the act, or has WICKED somehow messed with Teresa’s mind to make her forget him again, like before when they were back in the dorms? Doubts wiggle their way into his brain – was the warning just trying to get him on her side, to lull him into a false sense of security so he would willingly go with Group B? So he would willingly go with them to his death?</p><p>There’s a palpable wave of confusion over the Gladers, but Minho is the first one to react.</p><p>“I’m Thomas,” Minho says, taking a step forward.</p><p>The Gladers catch on quickly.</p><p>“No, I’m Thomas,” Newt says from behind.</p><p>“I’m pretty sure that <em>I’m </em>Thomas,” says Chuck.</p><p>Almost every boy has declared that <em>no </em>I’m<em> the real Thomas, take </em>me, when Teresa moves quick like lightning, slamming the butt of her spear straight into Minho’s solar plexus. Minho doubles over, trying to catch his breath, and in between one second and the next, Teresa has pulled Minho upright, his back to her front. The sharp edge of her spear presses threateningly against his throat.</p><p>Minho stares straight out at the other Gladers. No one dares move.</p><p>“That’s cute,” Teresa says. “That’s real cute. Does anyone else want to pretend that they’re the real Thomas, or can we all get on with our day?”</p><p>Thomas almost doesn’t recognize her. Her face is twisted all wrong, her voice arrogant and smug. This is not the Teresa he remembers from the Glade, from the shack where he last saw her, even.</p><p>Something is seriously wrong.</p><p>“I’m only going to ask one more time,” she says, pressing the blade of her spear closer to Minho’s throat. “Which… one of you… is Thomas?”</p><p>Anger zips down his spine in a rush. She told him that something awful was going to happen to him. <em>Only </em>him. And then she involved Minho. The trust he once felt starts crumbling away the longer Minho’s life is held in the balance. How <em>dare </em>she.</p><p>“I’m Thomas,” Thomas says, voice unforgiving. He steps forward, pulling down the neckline of his shirt to reveal the lettering stamped there. Teresa’s eyes flicker down to read it, then back up to Thomas’ face. “That enough proof for you?”</p><p>After a long, tortuous moment, she releases Minho, pushing him with considerable strength back into the group of Gladers.</p><p>She strolls towards him, the picture of relaxed and self-assured. The look on her face is alien – her eyes are full of sick amusement, her mouth curling into a smug grin. Thomas can see the flash of an incisor in the pale gleam of the coming day.</p><p>Without warning, she flips her spear so the pointy edge is facing the ground, then smacks him with the side of the blunt wood, hard across the side of his face.</p><p>Thomas cries out, his ear ringing painfully. He staggers to the side, but before he can recover, there’s a series of sharp hits to various points of his body – the other side of his face, his upper arm, his stomach. The final blow is a vicious whack to his knee, and he crumples to the ground, weak and aching.</p><p><em>How </em>could Teresa do this to him? Was WICKED making her do this? God, it looked like she was buggin’ <em>enjoying </em>it. He wasn’t sure if he was ever going to look at her again without seeing the evil glint in her eye as he fell to the ground.</p><p>He feels hands on his arm, across his back. “Thomas, are you alright?” Minho says frantically. But then the hands are gone, torn away.</p><p>“Ah ah ah…” Teresa says. Thomas can see her holding the spear out above and over his body, the point of the blade forcing Minho back to his feet and into the rest of the Gladers behind him. “Stay back. If any of you come any closer, they’ll shoot you.” Teresa gestures to the girls behind her. “They won’t even aim, they’ll just let the arrows fly where they may.”</p><p>Then Teresa digs her fingers into Thomas’ arm, pulling him up so he’s standing once again. Thomas just barely resists ripping his arm out of her grip. He knows that whatever Teresa had warned him about was going to happen no matter how hard he or the other boys resisted.</p><p>“I’ll go with you,” Thomas says, voice steel hard. “Don’t threaten them.”</p><p>“Oh,” Teresa says, mockingly sympathetic. “I don’t think you’re in any position to <em>bargain</em>, Thomas.”</p><p>With a curl of her fingers to the girls behind her, two step out from the crowd, one of them holding a burlap sack. It unravels from her fingers as she gets closer, dragging along the dust and dirt. It’s big enough for a person, and Thomas gets a feeling like he knows what’s going to happen next.</p><p>“Get in the bag,” Teresa says. Thomas hesitates for a moment, wondering if he should just trust her and follow her orders, but then Teresa bashes the staff into his lower stomach, removing his choice altogether. He gasps at the sudden pain, fighting for air. He loses his footing, dropping to his knees once again. The ground rises up to meet his face, and his vision goes blurry. “Fine. I’ll do it myself,” she says.</p><p>Thomas doesn’t know how Teresa manages it, but she lays out the bag and bodily lifts Thomas into it, tying it off at his head and feet. Blearily, he can see her signal to the girl group through the burlap material of the bag, and then his upper body is none too gently hitched up, the bag pulling taut. Thomas finally realizes that they’re literally going to <em>drag</em> him through the mountains. They’ve <em>got </em>to be joking.</p><p>“Don’t follow us,” Teresa says, and Thomas feels the bag start to move towards the rock face. “They’ll shoot, starting with the big guy up front here.”</p><p>Thomas knows Teresa means Minho, can see him at the forefront of the other Gladers as they slowly get smaller and smaller, and man, is he really starting to hate her. He can’t believe she’s doing this, that she’s being so <em>cruel</em>. He expected a betrayal, but he thought it would be a lot more civil than this. He’d been fully committed to trusting her, to going along with whatever awful thing that was planned, but she had put Minho’s life in jeopardy, along with the rest of the Gladers. He doesn’t know if he can ever forgive her for that.</p><p>“We’ll find you!” Minho yells, shouts from the other Gladers echoing similar sentiments. They’re quickly shut up by a swift punch to Thomas’ gut, and then they’re gone, swallowed up by the boiling horizon.</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>These girls really suck at carrying him.</p><p>Thomas almost thinks they’re doing it on purpose, dropping him periodically and dragging him over particularly sharp rocks, but then he sees some of the looks they’re giving him. They don’t meet his eye and keep on glancing over at each other, looks that say <em>what are we doing? </em>Thomas thinks they feel <em>guilty, </em>almost. None of them talk to Teresa, only hushed whispers to each other.</p><p>From the bits and pieces of conversation he catches, he learns that there are two girls who had probably been the leaders before Teresa showed up. There’s Sonya, a girl with freckles and strawberry blonde hair, and a dark-skinned girl named Harriet, the only one with what looks like a legitimate <em>sword</em>. Harriet looks like she knows how to use that sword for many evil purposes, but for now, she’s using it like a walking stick.</p><p>Thomas decides immediately he doesn’t want to get on either of their bad sides.</p><p>But still, he needs answers.</p><p>“Why don’t you guys just let me walk?” he asks when the girl dragging him along drops him once again. “You guys have lots of pointy weapons. I’m obviously not going to do anything.”</p><p>Sonya is about to open her mouth to answer when there’s a sharp, slicing voice from behind Thomas, from whoever is leading the pack.</p><p>Teresa.</p><p>“Shut up, Thomas. We’re not idiots. We’re waiting until your Glader buddies can’t see us anymore.”</p><p>“Huh?” Thomas says, trying to twist around in the bag. “Why?”</p><p>“Because that’s what we were <em>told </em>to do. Now <em>shut up!</em>” She punctuates the last statement by stalking over to him and ramming the end of her spear into his stomach, in the exact same spot as earlier. Thomas can’t help the grunt that escapes him, the panting breaths that he pulls in in short bursts. God, that <em>hurt</em>.</p><p>“Why’d you tell him that?” one of the girls whispers harshly.</p><p>“What does it matter what we tell him or not?” Teresa says. “We’re going to kill him anyway.”</p><p>And oh, right. Thomas had almost forgotten that killing him was the entire point of this.</p><p>How joyful. He can’t wait.</p><p>When the tattoo had miraculously appeared on his neck, he never would have imagined that Teresa would be in on this, that she would be leading the whole thing. He doesn’t know if the feeling in his chest is just a residual ache from the beating he took, or just pure disgust at what Teresa is doing.</p><p>“I can barely see them anymore,” another girl says. “Once we reach that crevice up there, we’ll be out of sight. They won’t be able to find us, even if they do follow.”</p><p>“Alright then,” Teresa says, ever the leader. “Let’s just get him that far.”</p><p>It’s a few more minutes of the thankless dragging of his body up and along the cliff face, and then he’s dropped to the hard ground. The bag is untied at both ends, and then light is thrown into his face, no longer shaded from the burlap.</p><p>There’s a hard whack to his head. “Get up!” Teresa yells.</p><p>“I will!” Thomas shouts back. “It might be easier if you <em>don’t </em>give me a concussion, though, <em>sister</em>.”</p><p>Thomas thinks he might see a flicker in her eyes at the scathing tone in the word <em>sister</em>, but it’s gone before he can be sure.</p><p>Sonya holds out a hand, and Thomas takes it, appreciating the help that Teresa hasn’t given him. “Thank you,” he tells the girl.</p><p>“You’re welcome,” she replies. “We better get going through the Pass. Get back to our camp.”</p><p>The gentleness in her tone surprises him. Weren’t these girls supposed to want to kill him? But other than Teresa, most of them had been… surprisingly nice. Other than the girl who had been dragging him, but he chalks that up to the fact that only one of the girls had done the task, instead of two or three. He doesn’t know who approved that, but he’s thinking it was most likely Teresa.</p><p>It just makes him hate her even more. Throughout their journey, he had tried to contact Teresa in his mind, to salvage what little trust was left between them, but had gotten no response.</p><p>He was trying to cool off his anger, trying to tell himself that it was an act, that he had to trust that Teresa was doing what she had to do to survive. But the atrocious treatment Thomas had been subjected to had not put him in the best mood, and wasn’t making him like her very much at all.</p><p>The rest of the journey is a steady uphill climb, his legs burning with the effort, the knee Teresa hit screaming in agony with every step. For a wild moment, he really thinks he might not make it to wherever Group B has set up camp, that they’re just going to have to kill him and leave his dead body on the mountaintop. But then he thinks of Minho and the other Gladers stumbling across his corpse, decomposing at an accelerated rate because of the heat, and has to hold back a sob. He can’t do that to them. <em>Refuses </em>to do that to them.</p><p>He resolves to fight for his life in any way he can. He’s not going to roll over and let Teresa perform this awful, awful thing to him, no matter what she said earlier.</p><p>Thomas doesn’t trust her anymore. It’s a cold realization, but he knows it’s true as soon as it pops into his brain.</p><p>He continues on, up and up and up.</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>There are other girls milling about the camp when they arrive, maybe about ten or so, bringing Group B to a total of thirty or so girls. Thomas is genuinely surprised that so many of them are still alive.</p><p>They tie him to a dead tree. The sun is high in the sky, hot enough to cause at least a second-degree burn, and they tie him to a dead tree. Teresa’s orders.</p><p>He supposes the saving grace is that they tie him around his torso, leaving his hands free. The girls give him water, some food, and then leave him in peace as they sleep off the remaining sunlight in the shade.</p><p>Something isn’t right about this. Teresa’s words and actions don’t feel like an act. There had never been a moment of hesitation before she hit him with that damn spear, and he had never seen her grin like that before, a sick stretch of lips and teeth.</p><p>WICKED is the boss, here. They must have told her to do it, and he assumes that WICKED had told Group B something about there being a need for Thomas dead. Would they go through with it? Would <em>Teresa </em>go through with it, if it meant her own survival? Could WICKED be manipulating her thoughts? Making her not like him?</p><p>Thomas watches as Harriet and Sonya lay out pallets, getting ready to go to sleep. They’re the closest ones to him, and they keep sneaking looks at him. Again, he notices the same expressions of shame or guilt. He sees it as an opportunity.</p><p>“You guys don’t really want to kill me, do you?” he asks softly. “Have you ever killed anyone before?”</p><p>Harriet sends him a harsh glare, propping herself up on an elbow just before her head hits the wad of blankets she’s using as a pillow. “We survived in the Maze just like you did, if what Teresa told us is true. Two years of fighting for our lives. I don’t think offing one insignificant teenage boy is going to be too rough.”</p><p>“Think of the guilt you’ll feel,” he says, hoping the comment will dig at them, get under their skin.</p><p>“We’ll get over it,” Harriet says, not sounding the least bit remorseful.</p><p>Sonya sits cross-legged next to Harriet, looking as far from sleep as humanly possible. “We don’t have a choice,” she tells Thomas. “WICKED said this was our only task. If we don’t do it, they won’t let us into the Safe Haven. We’ll die out here in the Scorch.”</p><p>Thomas figured this was the case. “Okay, so you kill me to save yourselves. I get it. Very noble.”</p><p>Sonya stares at him for a long time, and Thomas has to fight not to drop his gaze. Eventually, she turns her back to him, laying down next to Harriet.</p><p>Teresa walks over, annoyance clear as day on her face. “Shut up,” she says to Thomas.</p><p>Thomas smirks up at her, wondering how he ever could have felt anything resembling familial love for her ever before in his life. “What are you gonna do, huh?” he says, eyebrows raised. “Kill me?”</p><p>She doesn’t say anything, her face remaining as blank as the stone that surrounds them.</p><p>“Shut up and go to sleep,” she says, leaving him with a final kick to his bad knee. He can’t stop himself from crying out. His eyes water.</p><p>“Why are you doing this?” he asks, barely audible.</p><p>“You know what you did, Thomas,” she says. For some reason, he’s grateful that she didn’t call him <em>Tom</em> – he isn’t sure he could have taken the nickname in that cold tone she’s using.</p><p>“I really don’t,” he says. He knows he sounds pathetic, but he just doesn’t <em>understand</em>.</p><p>Teresa scoffs, not even bothering to reply. She stalks off, her spear clicking menacingly against the rock as she goes.</p><p>Harriet and Sonya stare at Thomas for a moment, and then at each other as he meets their eyes. Without saying anything, they both lay back down and close their eyes.</p><p>Thomas has no choice but to do the same, and he falls into a deep, fitful sleep.</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>Thomas is older this time, maybe fifteen or sixteen years old. Him and Teresa stand in front of an array of computer monitors and databanks. Other people are in the room with them, wearing sickly white lab coats, clicking at keyboards and talking amongst themselves quietly.</p><p>“I can’t believe they’re all dead,” Teresa is saying.</p><p>Dream Thomas has no clue what they’re talking about, but his mouth says, “We knew it would happen.”</p><p>“It’s still hard to take,” she says. “Now it’s up to us, and the people in the barracks. Everything’s in place, we just have to train the replacements. Two years shouldn’t be too long to get them up to speed.”</p><p>Now dream Thomas is even more confused. Why are him and Teresa – only teenagers – responsible for training new WICKED employees?</p><p>“It’s not right,” Thomas is saying. “How can we ask them to–”</p><p>“They know what they’re getting into, Tom. No more talking like that.”</p><p>“Yeah.” Somehow, Thomas can tell that the Thomas in the memory feels nothing at the words. He’s completely dead inside, a shell of a person. “All that matters is the patterns. The killzone. Nothing else.”</p><p>Teresa nods, looking at Thomas like she’s proud of him. “No matter how many die, or get hurt, if the Variables don’t work, they’ll end up the same anyway. Everyone will.”</p><p>“The patterns,” Thomas says, and he sounds like he’s trying to convince himself.</p><p>Teresa reaches out, squeezing his hand hard. “The patterns,” she agrees.</p><p>Then the scene is changing, the background fading and dissolving before it builds back up again, piece by piece. Dream Thomas can tell that time has passed, but how much time, he doesn’t know. Him and Teresa are in the same room again, but this time, they’re alone.</p><p>“I’m going in with him,” Thomas is saying.</p><p>Teresa doesn’t look pleased. Her arms are crossed, her hip jutted out in a way that Thomas knows means she’s annoyed with him. The glow from one of the monitors paints the right side of her face in a ghostly blue light. It matches her eyes perfectly.</p><p>“Tom, don’t be an idiot. You think you’re in love? You’re barely sixteen.”</p><p>“So are you,” he feels the need to point out.</p><p>“But <em>I’m </em>not the one who’s planning on ruining <em>everything </em>we’ve worked for by going into the Maze two years too early! All for some <em>boy</em>.” She scoffs, turning on her heel. She walks away from him, then back, like she has to move around or the rage will consume her. She repeats the motions three more times before coming to a stop again, right in front of Thomas. “What do you think is going to happen, Tom? Once you perform the Swipe, you won’t even <em>remember each other</em>.”</p><p>Admittedly, Thomas hasn’t thought that far ahead. He just knows that he can’t just stand around and spend the next two years watching Minho on tiny, itty bitty screens. It’ll drive him insane. Minho is predicted to be one of the boys that will be brave enough to run the Maze – what if he gets mauled by a Griever on day one and Thomas will be forced to watch his boyfriend get ripped apart? The thought makes him want to throw up.</p><p>“You lovesick idiot,” Teresa bites out, not even trying to conceal her anger. “If you decide to go through with it, don’t be surprised when it comes back to bite you in the butt.”</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>When Thomas wakes up, he keeps his eyes closed.</p><p>The first thought that comes to his mind is <em>this must be what Teresa was talking about earlier, why she’s so angry. </em>The second thought is <em>why did my brain decide to dream this up </em>now? It all seems kind of convenient. But the former thought is the one that his brain snags on. Maybe WICKED gave Teresa some of her memories back, and she was getting mad about him messing up the experiment all over again.</p><p>Thomas doesn’t believe that his actions really necessitated such a violent reaction from her, though. He thinks that if their positions had been completely reversed, he’d have helped her, back before the Maze ever started. He would have helped her, he knows it.</p><p>Most of the memories that he’s been getting back as he sleeps show him and Teresa as not only siblings, but best friends. They had been together from the very start.</p><p>Which is why he’s so hurt by her actions, no matter what she told him before everything happened. He has to hand it to WICKED on this one – the Betrayer was an apt nickname for her. He definitely feels betrayed.</p><p>“Are you awake, or not?”</p><p>The voice comes from directly in front of him, and he blinks his eyes open, realizing he has company. Sonya and Harriet sit cross legged on the pallet from earlier that day, watching him curiously. The blankets have been put away, and as Thomas casts a glance around the camp, he sees other girls eating and talking, but no Teresa.</p><p>“Teresa’s been gone for about half an hour,” Harriet says without having to be asked. “She said she was going to scout around the perimeter, just to make sure your boyfriend didn’t follow us.”</p><p>Thomas cuts a sharp glance over to Harriet at the boyfriend comment, immediately kicking himself as a smirk stretches slowly across her face.</p><p><em>Way to go, Thomas,</em> he thinks.</p><p>“Yeah, she told us all about <em>Minho</em>.”</p><p>Thomas forces himself to not snap at her for the thinly veiled threat. He needs these people on his side if he’s not going to be murdered by them for their own survival.</p><p>“What do you want?” he asks.</p><p>“Tell us what you know,” Sonya says quietly.</p><p>“Why should I help you?”</p><p>“You don’t really have a choice,” Harriet tells him matter-of-factly. “But if you share with us what you’ve learned and figured out, then maybe we can help <em>you</em> get back to Minho.”</p><p>Thomas considers this. If killing him gets them a free pass into the Safe Haven, why are they considering letting him go? Is this a trick? Another thing WICKED told them to do? God, he is really sick of having to overthink every single thing that comes his way, whether that be his own dreams or what these two girls are telling him.</p><p>“Does this mean you’re having second thoughts about… killing me?”</p><p>“Don’t get too excited,” Harriet says. “Let’s just say that we have our doubts, and we want to talk.”</p><p>“The smart thing would be to do what we were told – kill you and get into the Safe Haven,” Sonya says. “One life for the thirty of us. Seems like an easy decision. I mean, come on. If your group was in our position, and you all had to kill one random girl for everyone to live, what would you do?”</p><p>The question takes him by surprise. He hadn’t really expected to be consulted on his own fate – he’d been thinking he’d have to commit to something along the begging route. He pushes the sweat from his forehead up and into his hair so it’s out of his face. Almost hysterically, he thinks about Jeff giving him his last haircut back in the Glade, a week before Teresa arrived in the Box and triggered the Ending. Teresa messed everything up.</p><p>“You gonna answer?” Sonya pushes.</p><p>“I’m thinking,” he tells her, swallowing past the old memories of his friend and sister.  </p><p>He puts the Gladers in Group B’s shoes. If they had been told by WICKED at the start of everything that they would have to kill a girl from Group B, Thomas would have been immediately put off. It would make no sense – why would WICKED tell them to kill an innocent girl they’d never heard of before to save their own skin?</p><p>He thinks that most of the boys would have agreed and been perfectly fine with killing one girl to save the rest of them. He would like to hope that Minho, Newt, and Chuck would have been against it, that they would have been able to convince the rest of the Gladers otherwise. But the more he thinks about it, there’s something odd about the entire request.</p><p>“Okay,” Thomas says. “I’m being completely honest, I promise. If I were in your shoes, I would choose not to kill me.”</p><p>Harriet rolls her eyes. “Easy for you to say, it’s your own life on the line.”</p><p>“It’s not that,” Thomas says. “I think it’s some kind of test and you’re not actually supposed to do it.” His heartbeat picks up, and he realizes he really does mean what he just said. It’s a test. He knows it. “You guys are right. We should share what we know, figure something out.”</p><p>The two girls exchange a long glance, an entire wordless conversation passing between them.</p><p>Sonya nods at Harriet, and then Harriet turns to say, “We’ve had our doubts about this whole thing from the very beginning. Something isn’t right. So yeah, we better talk. Let me get everybody over here first.” Harriet stands to rouse the other girls.</p><p>“Hurry,” Thomas says, and for the first time, he thinks he might actually be able to get out of this. Get back to Minho and the other Gladers like they said. “We should do this before Teresa gets back.”</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>Thomas tells the gathered girls everything he knows and everything he’s learned from the moment he woke up in the Box. They compare information about their own Mazes, and Thomas explains what he knows about WICKED, that they’re all part of a huge experiment and that the Variables WICKED gives them is all for the purpose of studying their reactions in the hopes of finding a cure for the Flare.</p><p>“Rat Man telling you to kill me for your own survival is a test, I know it is,” Thomas finishes.</p><p>“In other words,” Harriet summarizes. “You want us to <em>risk </em>our lives because of your brilliant powers of deduction?”</p><p>“Think about it,” Thomas says. “What does killing me prove? There’s thirty of you, all with sharp and pointy weapons, and then me. How is that fair? How is that an indication of your strength?”</p><p>“Maybe WICKED is trying to see if we’re strong enough to kill our competitor’s leader,” Sonya says.</p><p>“But I’m <em>not </em>the leader,” Thomas tells them. “I never have been – It’s been Minho ever since we got dropped into the Scorch.”</p><p>The group of girls pause at that, looking at each other in short glances. Thomas doesn’t know what any of it means.</p><p>“So what doesthe test have to do with, then?” one girl calls out from the back.</p><p>Thomas takes a breath. “I think it’s a test to see if you’ll think for yourself – analyze the situation rationally and make your own decision. Killing me makes zero sense, it helps no one. You proved all you needed to by capturing me. Show WICKED that you won’t blindly take it all the way.”</p><p>“That’s interesting stuff,” Sonya says. “Sounds a lot like what a person who’s desperate not to die would say.”</p><p>He shrugs. “I feel like it’s the truth. I think if you kill me, you’ll have failed the real test that WICKED set up for you.”</p><p>“Yeah, I <em>bet </em>you think that,” Harriet says. She stands up. “To be honest, we’ve been thinking the same things. Something just isn’t right. We’ll have a group meeting once Teresa gets back, see what she says.”</p><p>For some reason, Thomas dislikes that idea immensely. “No!” he says, definitely too loud and with too much force. “She’s the one who’s most enthusiastic about killing me.”</p><p>“Isn’t she your sister?” one of the girls asks.</p><p>“Why, yes. She is,” Thomas says. “And yet, she still wants to kill me.”</p><p>“Don’t worry, she won’t be able to do anything if we don’t want her to,” Harriet says with a half-smile.</p><p>Thomas finds the words and her expression somewhat relieving. It’s all he can do to sit back against the long-dead tree and wait for Teresa’s verdict. Never in his life did he think he would be here, sitting on top of a mountain with a sunburnt face, waiting for his sister to decide whether or not to kill him.</p><p>God, his life is weird. He wishes he could joke with Minho about it, hopes the rest of the Gladers are okay.</p><p>When Teresa finally gets back, it’s almost sunset. The girls talk for what seems like hours, each of them growing more agitated by the second. Thomas wishes he could at least hear pieces and snippets of what they’re saying, but the group is standing resolutely on the other side of the mountain clearing. Thomas can’t understand a word.</p><p>Finally, Teresa stalks off. Her hair whips in the wind, spear strapped to her back, backpack hanging off her other shoulder. Thomas watches her until she disappears through the Pass.</p><p>“So?” Thomas calls out to the group of girls.</p><p>Harriet and Sonya walk over to the dead tree. No one says anything until the binding attaching him to the tree is finally loosened.</p><p>“It’s your lucky day,” Harriet says, standing with her arms crossed. “We’ve decided not to kill you, after all.”</p><p>Thomas doesn’t feel the expected rush of relief – he realizes he knew what the decision would be all along. But he’s happy that he’ll be able to get back to Minho, to Chuck and Newt, to the rest of the Gladers.</p><p>Once again, Sonya reaches a hand out to help him to his feet, and Thomas takes it gratefully.</p><p>Harriet continues. “But I really should tell you… your sister does <em>not </em>like you. I’d watch my back around her if I were you.”</p><p>Huh.</p><p>So Teresa really <em>does</em> want him dead.</p><p>For some reason, the thought doesn’t surprise him. Not one bit.</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>Thomas eats the food the girls provide for him, makes small talk, and then follows them as they start on their journey around and down the mountain.</p><p>There’s three days left until they make it to the Safe Haven.</p><p>Thomas thinks about trying to find the Gladers and make it there with them, but there just isn’t time. He has to trust that Minho isn’t going on a crazy manhunt looking for him, that he’ll lead the rest of the Gladers to the Safe Haven and meet Thomas there.</p><p>Thomas keeps to the back of the group as they trudge along the rock face, and after hours of walking, Harriet drifts back so they’re walking side by side.</p><p>“When did you and Minho get together?” Harriet asks out of the blue.</p><p>Thomas narrows his eyes at her, but her tone is soft, gentle. From what he can see in what little light he’s been given by the overhead stars, her face looks kind. Thomas realizes that it’s a peace offering. “Ten months into the Maze,” he finally answers.</p><p>“Wow,” she says, sounding surprised. “Why’d it take you guys so long?”</p><p>“Because we were really enjoying the unresolved sexual tension,” Thomas says dryly, and Harriet laughs.</p><p>They’re quiet for the next few breaths as they have to make it up and over a thin piece of rock. One wrong stumble and they’ll both tumble down the cliff.</p><p>Once they’re clear and back on even ground, she says, “Sorry for tying you up into a bag and dragging you across the desert.” Thomas imagines a smirk on her face.</p><p>“Oh, no problem,” he says breezily, knowing he has to play the part. “It was nice to take a load off.”</p><p>She makes a humming noise. “I’m sure it was. But – what’d you call him again? – Rat Man gave us very specific instructions about you. Teresa, though, she was the one who got obsessed with it. Like killing you was all her idea.”</p><p>That comment confuses Thomas a lot. What would be the point of putting him in a bag and dragging him out of sight of the other Gladers? Why was Group B told to kill Thomas to begin with? And why was Teresa so hell bent on following those orders? It has to have a purpose – nothing WICKED does is without a purpose. But Thomas just can’t seem to puzzle it out.</p><p>“Most of our trip was through the underground tunnels – we bypassed the city entirely,” Harriet continues, and Thomas has a brief moment of feeling bitter that WICKED allowed Group Bto have the easy route. No Cranks, no crazy lightning storm to kill half their group, and based on what Thomas had seen, easy access to backpacks, water bottles, food, and weapons. Both groups had started out at around thirty teenagers, and the Gladers have been cut down to a measly fifteen boys while Group B seems to have lost no one. “The first thing we were supposed to do was that thing with Teresa in that building on the south side of the city. Remember?”</p><p>As if Thomas could forget. He can’t believe that Teresa was already with Group B at that point – he had thought that she’d been all alone, under WICKED’s tortuous control. He <em>cried </em>for her.</p><p>“Yeah,” Thomas says, voice hard. “I remember.”</p><p>“You’ve probably figured this out by now, but all that was an act. Meant to give you a sense of false security.”</p><p>Thomas had wondered that the day after, had considered the possibility that it had all been set up by WICKED. But he’d brushed it off. He had been so convinced by Teresa’s act. He’s starting to realize that it might not be an act at all. Maybe after Thomas had gone into the Maze, WICKED had gotten their hands on her – changed her into a completely different person than the girl he had grown up with. Maybe this is who the real Teresa is now.</p><p>She did say his actions would come back to bite him in the butt, after all.</p><p>“Tell me the rest of the instructions he gave you,” Thomas says. “I need to hear it. All of it.”</p><p>“Well,” Harriet begins. “You were there for all of it. The whole kidnapping scene, keeping you in the bag until we were out of Group A’s sight.”</p><p>“What about holding a knife to Minho’s throat?” Thomas interrupts. “Was that part of the plan?”</p><p>Harriet hesitates, but then tells him, “No. We were just told we needed to capture you through any means necessary.”</p><p>Thomas blows out a long breath, blinking hard into the dark night. Teresa had come up with that all on her own, then. And she knew just where to make it hurt.</p><p>“Tell me the rest,” he says. “Please.”</p><p>“We were supposed to kill you the day after tomorrow. There’s supposed to be a place built into the mountain on the north side. A special place to… kill you.”</p><p>“A special <em>place?</em>” Thomas questions. “What does that even mean?”</p><p>“Your guess is as good as mine,” Harriet says. “All Rat Man told us was that we’d know what to do once we got there.” She pauses, then snaps her fingers like she just thought of something. “I bet that’s where she went earlier.”</p><p>Teresa… went to the special place… where Group B was supposed to kill him. Because of course she did.</p><p>“How close are we to the other side?” Thomas asks.</p><p>“No idea, actually.”</p><p>They fall into silence and keep walking.</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>The group of girls and Thomas look out into the flat desert, out into where the Safe Haven is supposed to be. Even in the dim shadows of midnight, Thomas can tell that there’s nothing there. No building to speak of. Just flat, dusty desert that continues on forever.</p><p>There’s a few theories thrown around that it’ll be underground, or built into the mountainside, or that it will pop into existence right when their two week timeframe is up, and Thomas can only hope that one of them is right. The Gladers have been through hell and back these past two weeks. Thomas doesn’t know what he’s going to do if all that suffering has been for nothing.</p><p>They walk for another hour or so, crisscrossing back and forth in the trail in silence. Thomas falls to the back of the pack again, deep in thought.</p><p>He almost doesn’t notice the voice that speaks his name, but he sees movement out of the corner of his eye. He startles so bad that he almost trips. Teresa steps out from behind a thick knot of white wood, spear gripped in her right hand, most of her face hidden in shadow.</p><p>The other girls must not have heard, because they keep on walking.</p><p>“Tom, we need to talk,” she says, almost sounding like the girl he thought he knew. “The act is over.”</p><p>She turns away without waiting for a response, making her way into the lifeless forest.</p><p>He’s tempted to keep on walking. Leave her here. Every instinct he has is firing – telling him not to go after her.</p><p>But curiosity gets the best of him.</p><p>He steps into the forest, the darkness consuming him.</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>After minutes of walking in silence, Thomas gets fed up.</p><p>“Where are we going? Are you going to explain <em>why</em>–”</p><p>“You’ve met Aris, right?”</p><p>Thomas almost stops for a moment, completely taken aback at the question. “<em>Aris? </em>What does he have to do with anything?”</p><p>Teresa continues to walk on, steadily up the mountainside, using her spear like a staff. She picks her way through a particularly tight pack of branches – one flies back and smacks him in the face as she releases them. His cheek and forehead sting; he reaches up to wipe at his face and his fingers come back bloody, black in the dim light.</p><p>Once they’re both through, she stops, finally turning to look at him, her face illuminated by a patch of moonlight. He glares at her. She stares back.</p><p>“I happen to know Aris very well,” she eventually responds, voice tight. “Not only was he a big part of my life before the Maze, but he and I can communicate in our minds, just like you and I. Even when I was in the Glade, we talked to each other all the time. We knew that they’d eventually put us back together.”</p><p>Thomas stares at her. She <em>did not </em>just say that. It… must be a joke. A trick concocted by WICKED. Just… <em>no</em>.</p><p>“No… You’re lying.” Thomas hates how his voice shakes.</p><p>“Come <em>on</em>, Tom. After everything we’ve been through, how can anything surprise you anymore? Everything about us was part of a ridiculous test. And it’s over. Aris and I are going to do what we were told to do, and life goes on. WICKED’s all that matters now. That’s it.”</p><p>“How can you say that?” Thomas exclaims, completely gutted. “WICKED has been the cause of everything that’s bad in our lives. From the very start! How can you be on their side?”</p><p>“You just don’t get it, Tom. You don’t <em>understand</em>.”</p><p>“Then <em>help me </em>understand,” he pleads. “Don’t… don’t do this. WICKED is <em>not </em>our friend.”</p><p>Teresa doesn’t respond. She just looks past him, straight over his shoulder. There’s the snap of twigs and the rustle of leaves from behind him, but Thomas holds on to his dignity long enough to not look behind him to see who’s there.</p><p>“Tom,” Teresa says, speaking like she’s talking to a very young child. “Aris is behind you, and he has a very sharp knife. Try anything, and he’s going to slice your neck open. You’re coming with us, and you’re going to do exactly what we tell you. Understand?”</p><p>Thomas holds her gaze, tries to project every ounce of rage he feels directly to her. Even his hate for WICKED doesn’t come close to what he feels right now for his sister.</p><p>“Say hi, Aris,” Teresa says. And then she <em>smiles</em>, her teeth gleaming dangerously in the moonlight.</p><p>“Hi, Tommy,” the boy says from behind him, and yup. That’s definitely Aris’ voice. Thomas hates the way Newt’s nickname for him sounds coming out of his mouth. “Such a thrill to be with you again.” The point of his knife nudges into his lower back, just enough to be a threat.</p><p>Thomas thinks of the piece of paper from that wall mounted display that had replaced Teresa’s once Aris had been fully situated in the dorm room, way back at the beginning of all this.</p><p>
  <em>Aris Jones. Group B, Subject B1. The Partner.</em>
</p><p>The Betrayer, and the Partner to the Betrayer.</p><p>It all makes sense. God, he should have known.</p><p>Thomas continues to glare at Teresa, keeping his mouth shut.</p><p>“Well, at least you’re acting like a grown up about all of this. You certainly didn’t before.”</p><p>Somehow, Thomas knows she’s talking about <em>before</em>. Before the Maze, when Thomas followed Minho into the Box with the original Gladers and messed up the whole experiment.</p><p>“Just keep on following me,” Teresa says. “We’re almost there.”</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>They take him to a cave, its entrance obscured by a thick wall of trees. A dull light source shines from deep inside, a sickly green rectangle that glows as if it’s radioactive.</p><p>He’s wondering how the hell that thing even <em>works </em>when he’s forced to his knees by Aris, knife pointed directly at his nose.</p><p>“You stay there like a good little boy, okay, Tommy?”</p><p>“Don’t call me Tommy,” Thomas says before he can bite it back.</p><p>“Would you like <em>Tom</em> better?” Aris asks mockingly. “Or how about-” his voice goes husky and breathy, and then he moans out, “Thomas, oh god! Thomas!” Aris smirks down at him. “What would you prefer?”</p><p>Thomas glares up at him. Can’t believe he ever thought he liked this kid. He wants to tear his face off. “Whatever you two are planning, just get it over with,” he says.</p><p>It’s then that Teresa speaks, walking over to stand in front of him with her arms crossed. “If it helps, I’m sorry that I hurt you. I did what I had to do back in the Maze, and it’s no different here. All we had to do was get you here to pass the Trials. It’s either <em>you </em>or <em>us</em>.” Teresa pauses for a moment. “Aris is my <em>best friend</em>. You get that, right? I’m going to do whatever it takes to make it through this and keep him safe.”</p><p>“What makes you think that I <em>care</em>? Even a little bit? <em>One iota?</em>” Thomas says.</p><p>Aris scoffs. “The hurt is plain on your face, dude.” Then he crouches down so they’re eye level. “But you know what I’m looking forward to?” He pauses as if for dramatic effect. “The look on your face when I tell you what I did to Minho before coming out here to meet Teresa.”</p><p>Thomas’ jaw clenches involuntarily.</p><p>“Don’t worry,” Aris says, smirking. “I didn’t permanently disfigure him… <em>much</em>. I hope he can still make it to the Safe Haven after what I–”</p><p>Thomas gets his feet under him in a flash, knocking the knife out of Aris’ grip and diving forward, wrapping his hands around his neck. Aris flies back, hitting the ground hard on his back, and Thomas is on top of him in an instant, punching at his face as hard as he can.</p><p>But there’s two of them and one of him. Teresa whacks him over the head with her spear, so hard that his vision blacks out for a moment. Thomas is rolled off to his side by Aris as Thomas is still disoriented, and is kicked sharply in the stomach – one, two, <em>three </em>vicious hits. Bile rises up his throat, and Thomas vomits half onto the floor and half onto himself, a mixture of what he’d eaten earlier in the day and blood.</p><p>Aris gets to his feet, spitting in Thomas’ face. He grins through a split lip. “Can’t say it wasn’t worth it for that look in your eye.”</p><p>“Aris,” Teresa says. “Let’s get him past that door. Time for Tom to go.”</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>Thomas keeps his face pressed against the cold rock of the ground, focusing on his breathing. White spots still dance in his vision, no matter if his eyes are open or closed. He wants to fight back, make them both pay for what he’s done to him, but right now, the only fight he’s managing is the one for consciousness – and he’s losing badly.</p><p>There’s a series of beeps, and then a slow groan and hiss, and Thomas can see that the radioactive rectangle is <em>moving</em>. Thomas had thought it was some kind of window or Flat Trans thingy, but no. Just a regular old door.</p><p>Thomas doesn’t know why he thinks that’s so disappointing. At least if he was going to die because of that thing, it would have been interesting.</p><p>White mist drops to the floor as the door fully clicks open, spreading across the rock face and washing over Thomas in a wave before evaporating into nothing.</p><p>A knife waves itself into his vision. “You gonna be able to walk in there yourself, or are we going to have to drag you?”</p><p>Thomas glares at the spot he thinks is Aris, but everything is blurry, and blinking doesn’t make it better.</p><p>“Get his legs,” Teresa says, and then there are hands none too gently grabbing under his shoulders and wrapping around his ankles.</p><p>Thomas struggles as much as he can, but every kick of his legs and jerk of his arms sends pain lancing through his body.</p><p>“Wow,” Aris says. “This is kind of pathetic.”</p><p>“Good riddance, then,” Teresa responds, and then they’re throwing him past the door and into the small room. He skids along the ground and slams into the wall, knocking his temple on the cold metal with a jolt, and that’s just what he needs right now. Another concussion.</p><p>Thomas is immediately swallowed up by the darkness, the door slowly closing, grinding along what sounds like a mechanical track.</p><p>As Thomas watches the door slide shut, he thinks of something Minho once told him. It was the day after they had survived overnight in the Maze, when they were sitting at the bonfire, Thomas’ back pressed tightly against Minho’s chest as they both watched the flames climb higher into the starry sky. Minho had told him about the moment he realized that he wouldn’t make it back to the Doors in time, that he would die trapped in the Maze. The only thing that had given him any comfort was the thought of Thomas, alive and safe back in the Glade.</p><p>Thomas finally understands that feeling now.</p><p>The door slots home with a <em>clunk</em>, and Thomas thinks of Minho – Minho smiling, laughing, but most importantly, <em>alive</em>. Minho’s going to be okay. He’s going to make it to the Safe Haven, even if Thomas isn’t.</p><p>A faint hissing noise erupts from the walls around him, and Thomas just barely manages to push himself into a sitting position to inspect the sound further. The faint glowing light from the door illuminates the gassy mist spilling from tiny holes embedded into the walls, and Thomas scoffs.</p><p>So this is it, then.</p><p>Thomas has faced down Grievers and Cranks, survived two goddamn years in the Maze, was saved from a gunshot wound, and <em>poison gas </em>is how they finally take him out.</p><p>For a brief moment, Thomas considers trying to talk to Teresa or Aris, to ask them to send a message to Minho once he’s gone – <em>Tell him that I love him</em> – but he doesn’t trust either of them to deliver it. He just has to believe that Minho knows he loves him, that he tried his hardest to see him again, even though he failed.</p><p>Breathing is getting difficult.</p><p>There’s the continuous spray of gas from above him, the cold seeping through the length of his body as he lays his head to the ground, the light from the door tinting everything in the small room with a green hue, and then nothing.</p><p>Nothing at all.</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>Thomas stands in a blank room, surrounded by three other teenagers. The scene is hazy, blurry around the edges. It’s another memory-dream, but somehow, he can tell that it isn’t his own.</p><p>Teresa stands beside him, facing Aris and another girl that Thomas doesn’t recognize. Whoever’s memory this is, though, knows that the girl’s name is Rachel.</p><p>“It’s time,” Aris says.</p><p>“I know,” Teresa replies. “Into the Swipe, and then into the Maze.”</p><p>There’s a moment where she steps closer to shake hands with Aris, and then Teresa turns to do the same with Rachel. Everyone ignores Thomas, continuing on like he’s invisible.</p><p>“Good luck,” Rachel tells her.</p><p>Teresa nods. When she speaks next, her voice is tight. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”</p><p>Aris reaches across the space between them to clasp her shoulder, squeezing tight. “He’s survived for two years, up there. What’s another couple of weeks?”</p><p>Teresa tries to smile, tears springing to her eyes.</p><p>Rachel steps up to her then. “Everything is going to be fine, Teresa. It’s all gone according to plan.”</p><p>“We have to go,” Aris says.</p><p>It’s then that the sense of urgency permeates the dream, the scene fading and dissolving before Thomas can make sense of what just happened.</p><p>Everything goes black.</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>Thomas wakes up slowly, blinking his eyes open to inky darkness. The memories of what he’s been through flow back to him in a rush – getting captured by Group B, convincing them not to kill him, just to be shoved into a gas chamber by his sister and Aris. The rage he feels towards them has dissolved into dull acceptance.</p><p>He feels around the empty space, hands catching on rocks along the ground and the wall with the upraised holes, and determines he’s still in the same room – nothing has changed, except the ghostly green light emanating from the door has been shut off.</p><p>Surprisingly, he feels quite refreshed. Maybe it’s just the elation that he’s not dead.</p><p>He’s alive. That isn’t something that he thought would happen. He’s <em>alive</em>.</p><p>As he gingerly climbs to his feet, feeling around him as he goes, he realizes that his knee doesn’t hurt anymore. Neither does his head, or his stomach. All the aches and pains that had been caused by Teresa and Aris are all but gone.</p><p>Thomas finds the smooth glass surface of what must be the door, searching for a latch, a handle, a button, <em>something </em>that will get him out of this room.</p><p>He wonders how much time has passed, if the two weeks is over yet. Maybe this entire thing is meant to delay him long enough to make him miss the Safe Haven deadline. If only he could see his watch.</p><p>“Hey!” Thomas shouts, banging his fist against the door with all his might. “Can anybody hear me? I’m in here!”</p><p>He strains his ears, trying to hear any sign of movement from the other side of the thick door, but there’s nothing.</p><p>Thomas tries to make sense of all the dreams he’s been having. He’d worked with WICKED, that much is clear. Back then, he had believed in what they were doing, convinced that the end justified the means, that he was working for the greater good.</p><p>He doesn’t think that anymore.</p><p>How can WICKED justify what they’ve done? Thomas doesn’t think of himself as a kid anymore, but he can’t deny that that’s what they were, however many years ago that WICKED stole them away from their families and trained them to be their test subjects. Thomas feels sick to his stomach at the things he had prepared for the Maze, different Variables for both groups to work through.</p><p>He doesn’t like the person in his dreams very much, but he likes to think that his experiences have shaped him into a different one – stronger, adaptable, compassionate. Someone who can’t just <em>allow </em>WICKED to get away with all that they’ve done, all the grief they’ve caused. Something has fully cracked within him.</p><p>And Teresa. How could he have ever felt so much for her? He had loved his sister so much – they had stuck together through thick and thin. He tries to reach for those feelings again and finds nothing but a gaping emptiness.</p><p>There’s a sharp cracking sound from the door, then a hissing, and the faint morning light spills into the room as the door starts to open. Teresa is standing right outside, and as soon as the opening is big enough, she’s reaching through and tugging him back into the cave.</p><p>“I’m so sorry, Tom!” she cries, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him tight. “I’m so so so sorry. They said that they’d kill you if we didn’t do everything they told us! No matter how horrible.”</p><p>Thomas stands rooted to the spot, can’t bring himself to lift his arms to hug her back. Distantly, he realizes she had told the truth after all – WICKED had forced her to do terrible things to him, she’d done them against her will. But he also knows that things between them will never, never be the same.</p><p>He sees Aris leaning against the cave wall over her shoulder and feels rage claw his way back up into his chest all over again.</p><p>Aris must see something in his eyes, because he straightens up, hands held palms facing out. “I’m sorry, man.”</p><p>“Minho’s okay?” Thomas asks, cursing the way his voice breaks over the vowels.</p><p>“Yeah,” Aris says. “WICKED made me say all those things about him. Minho’s totally fine. I snuck away from your friends before they even woke up.”</p><p>Thomas nods to himself, and Teresa finally steps away.</p><p>“You need to tell me exactly what happened,” Thomas says, tone as steely as he’s ever heard it.</p><p>“I told you to trust me,” Teresa answers. “I told you about the bad things that would happen, but it was all an act, Thomas.” She smiles then, watery but as beautiful as ever. Still, Thomas can’t let go of what happened that quickly.</p><p>“You didn’t seem to struggle too much, beating the klunk out of me with that spear and throwing me into a gas chamber,” he says, not even trying to hide the mistrust that’s raging in his heart.</p><p>“It was all an <em>act</em>, Tom,” Teresa says. “You have to believe us. We were promised from the very beginning that you wouldn’t die. That the chamber thing had its own purposes and then it’d be over. I’m so sorry.”</p><p>Thomas looks back to the still-gaping door. “I need some time to process this. But you need to tell me everything, from the very beginning.”</p><p>“Of course,” Teresa says, her blue eyes shining with tears. “I’ll explain everything.”</p><p>Aris clears his throat, the interruption clear. “We need to do that while walking – or running. We need to get to the Safe Haven. Today’s the day.”</p><p>Thomas immediately checks his watch – if Aris is telling the truth, they only have about five hours to make it there. How long had he been in that room for?</p><p>“Tell me on the way, then,” Thomas says. “Let’s go.”</p><p>He wants to see Minho again.</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>As they follow the trail down the mountain, he can see the Gladers near the base of the mountain, Group B a couple of miles ahead of them. There’s no Safe Haven to speak of – just flat wasteland. They’re all just hoping that something will appear when the time is up.</p><p>Thomas listens as Teresa explains what WICKED had them do, how they told them to do it. Teresa had woken up in a white room after their telepathic conversation in the dorm rooms, and the mission had been explained to her and Aris both. She tells him about how she’d been placed with Group B and been told about the Trial to the Safe Haven, about having the Flare. Everything that had happened thus far had been meticulously planned out by WICKED. She’d been told that if she didn’t do what they wanted, they would kill Thomas. That they ‘had other options,’ whatever that meant. Her and Aris’ entire task was to make him feel as betrayed as possible, and Thomas hates WICKED a little more at the fact that they succeeded. But still, he can’t forget what had been done to him, the pure cruelty Teresa showed to him, the heartless threats against Minho.</p><p>“So?” Teresa finishes.</p><p>“So what?” Thomas asks.</p><p>“What do you think?” Teresa clarifies.</p><p>“That’s it?” Thomas scoffs, feeling betrayed all over again. “That’s your whole explanation? I’m supposed to feel all happy now?”</p><p>“Tom, I couldn’t take any chances. I was<em> convinced </em>they were going to do something to you. I did what I had to do to keep you safe. I’m your sister, that’s my job.”</p><p>Thomas can’t help but think that he was the <em>opposite </em>of safe the last time they spoke to each other.</p><p>Teresa continues on. “I had to make you feel as betrayed as possible, that’s why I put so much into it. I have no idea why it was so important to them.”</p><p>“None of this makes any <em>sense</em>,” Thomas stresses. “Why was it <em>me? </em>Why did they choose <em>you </em>to betray me? And why the hell was <em>Aris </em>involved?”</p><p>Teresa catches up enough to grasp his forearm, stopping their steady descent down the mountainside. “WICKED’s had everything calculated from the very beginning. It’s all for the Variables. I don’t <em>know </em>how it all fits together.”</p><p>Thomas pulls his arm free from Teresa’s grip, not even trying to be subtle about it. Hurt flashes across her face, but Thomas feels nothing.</p><p>“We’re probably never going to find out, anyways,” he says. “Excuse me for feeling a little ticked off.” He continues down the trail, not waiting for Teresa and Aris to catch up.</p><p>“It worked, didn’t it?” Teresa calls.</p><p>Against his better judgement, he stops, slowly turning to face her.</p><p>“WICKED wanted to make you feel betrayed. And it worked, right?”</p><p>Thomas stares at his sister, knowing that he can never fully trust her ever again. “Yeah,” he bites out. “It worked.”</p><p>Teresa starts towards him again, stopping right in front of him. Her hand moves like she wants to touch him, but she stops herself. “Then it was worth it. You’re alive, and so am I. We all are. Even Minho.”</p><p>“Don’t say his shuckin’ name,” Thomas says before he can stop himself.</p><p>“I’m sorry for what I did, but I’m not sorry about the outcome. WICKED got what they want, and I got what I want.”</p><p>“Right.”</p><p>There’s a few breaths before Teresa realizes that Thomas isn’t going to say anything more, and she sighs.</p><p>“I love you, Tom. You’ll always be my brother.”</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>It takes them an hour to reach the bottom of the mountain, and as they do, the sky grows overcast, clouds rolling in from all directions. It’s unnatural, is what it is, and Thomas knows that WICKED is behind it. He just has to hope that the Safe Haven will open up before the storm gets as bad as it did last time.</p><p>Wind lashes through the air, spitting up dirt and debris as the three of them jog the last mile or so of sloping mountainside until they reach the flat desert. They take a short break then, finishing what little food and water they have before observing the other groups.</p><p>“They’re just walking up there,” Teresa says. “Why are they doing that?”</p><p>“There’s still three hours left,” Aris answers. “We can easily make it there if we walk.”</p><p>Thomas looks between them, shaking his head. “You two can walk if you like. I’m gonna go kiss my boyfriend.”</p><p>He takes off before either Teresa or Aris can reply. It feels nice to finally run without an immediate threat looming on the horizon. The stretch of his legs, his feet hitting the ground, the burning in his lungs, it just proves to him that he’s alive. He made it to see another day.</p><p>The dirt stings his skin as the wind flies by, the sky darkening with every passing breath. It’s a hard run, the wind forcing him to work twice as hard as he ever had to do in the Maze, but he pays it no mind. God, he wants to see Minho so bad.</p><p>Someone must have gotten Minho’s attention when they see Thomas racing across the desert, because the two groups seem to split apart where they’ve converged. Minho is revealed from parting of the groups, and he’s as beautiful and rugged as always. He’s sprinting straight toward him.</p><p>Minho’s alive.</p><p>He’s really okay. He’s fine.</p><p>They crash into each other in the middle of the barren wasteland, and it’s almost enough to knock the breath from Thomas’ lungs if Minho hadn’t already taken it away. Minho’s arms wrap around Thomas’ waist, hands clutching and digging into the expanse of his back, Thomas throwing his own arms around Minho’s neck. His feet lift off the ground as Minho spins them around – once, twice, three times. His legs easily find their way around Minho’s hips, thighs squeezing tight, and Minho’s hands come down to hold Thomas up, maybe pull him closer.</p><p>“Stop, stop,” Thomas laughs, “we’re both going to get dizzy.”</p><p>Minho acquiesces, smile bright, a perfect contrast to the darkening sky above them. Thomas is helpless to seize that beautiful face and pull him into a toe-curling kiss.</p><p>They kiss for what seems like hours, lips wet and teeth sharp. They pull away for a moment, but it’s only for Minho to deposit Thomas back on his feet so he can wind his fingers into Thomas’ hair, the other hand coming up to cup Thomas’s face to pull him straight back in. Minho’s thumb presses against the line of his jaw, their tongues curling together sinfully.</p><p>The wind whips at their hair and their clothes, and they finally tear apart, panting into each other’s mouths.</p><p>Minho’s expression darkens as he takes a moment to look at Thomas’ appearance more in depth. He reaches up to thumb at the laceration caused by the wayward branch Teresa had snapped back into his face, and the muscle in his jaw tightens. “Are you okay? What’d she do to you?”</p><p>Thomas sighs, covering Minho’s hand where it’s come to rest on his neck.</p><p>He opens his mouth to answer, but Minho harshly whispers, “I’ll knock her out just for that look she put in your eyes.”</p><p>Thomas squeezes Minho’s hand. “She–” Thomas cuts himself off, not wanting to ruin this moment with the acknowledgement of what she did, what her and Aris both did. “All that matters is that I’m alive. I’m okay. Technically, she was telling the truth.”</p><p>“Technically?” Minho lets out a huff of laugh, completely devoid of humour. “Let me guess, it’s a long story?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Thomas agrees. “Very long story. I’ll tell you later, just… not right now.” He nods to the group of girls milling about behind them, very politely looking as if they’re not watching the two of them reunite. “Thought you’d be fighting tooth and nail against these girls for what they did to me. To us.”</p><p>Minho looks back to the now mingling group of girls and boys, then returns his gaze to Thomas. He knows Thomas is trying to change the subject, but he lets him. “Harriet explained everything. Swore up and down that you were alive last time she saw you. What <em>I’m </em>surprised about is why you’re still with <em>them </em>– <em>shuck traitors!” </em>He yells the last part, and Thomas looks over to see that Aris and Teresa have neared them. They’ve slowed to a walk, getting steadily closer all the while. Minho immediately shoulders his way in front of Thomas, looking like he’s ready to start knocking heads. “What’d you do to him?” he shouts.</p><p>“I did what I had to do,” Teresa answers, remaining calm in the face of Minho’s fury. She gestures beside her to Aris. “We both did. We did it so Thomas could live. You should be thanking us.”</p><p>“<em>Thank </em>you?You held me at knifepoint, stuffed Thomas into a bag after knocking him down to the ground with that shuck spear of yours, including whatever <em>else </em>you did to him after you got him separated from Group B, and you want me to <em>thank you? </em>I don’t think so, <em>in-law</em>.”</p><p>Aris steps forward at that, holding up a hand to stop Minho’s onslaught. “Hey, man–”</p><p>“Don’t even get me started on <em>you</em>, you goddamn traitor,” Minho grinds out. He starts forward, but Thomas just has to lay a hand on Minho’s shoulder for him to stop in his tracks.</p><p>“Minho,” Thomas says. “I’m sick of fighting. Just…” he pauses, trying to find the right words. “You don’t have to trust them, or forgive them. For right now, can we just… not?”</p><p>Minho takes one long look at Thomas, eyes hard. Eventually, he nods, casting a glance back towards Teresa and Aris. “If either of you so much as lay a finger on Thomas, you lose the finger.”</p><p>Aris holds up his hands in surrender. “Got it, dude.”</p><p>Teresa looks between Minho and Thomas, as if expecting Thomas to stick up for her, to protest the threat. She must be sorely disappointed when Thomas just stares straight back at her, face blank.</p><p>She nods once, eyes hard as stone. “Fine.”</p><p>There’s a tense few seconds when neither of the four are willing to turn their back on the others.</p><p>“Why is everyone stopped here?” Thomas asks Minho in a desperate attempt to direct the conversation elsewhere.</p><p>Minho does a wide, sweeping gesture of his hand towards the group of teenagers. “See for yourself. <em>You guys make a path!</em>”</p><p>Several Gladers and girls alike look up at the shout, then slowly shuffle to the side until a narrow break in the crowd is formed. Thomas starts walking towards the group, but he can see immediately what holds everyone’s attention. It’s a stick, only two feet tall, sticking straight up out of the arid ground. An orange ribbon is attached to the top, flapping insistently in the wind.</p><p>Thomas picks Chuck out of the crowd and they exchange a glance.</p><p><em>Is this for real?</em> Thomas says with his eyes.</p><p><em>I know,</em> Chuck’s eyes say back.</p><p>Because printed on the ribbon are three words, black lettering stamped into the orange fabric.</p><p>THE SAFE HAVEN.</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>“A… stick,” Thomas says numbly. “The Safe Haven is… a stick.” Confusion wars with anger as Thomas realizes that the past two weeks of hell the Gladers have had to live through has all been for absolutely <em>nothing. </em>No building, or shelter, or <em>something?</em></p><p>“I know,” Minho says from behind him. “There’s still an hour left. Guess we just need to wait for the clock to tick down, and something will happen.”</p><p>Thomas looks over at him. The sky seems to darken with every passing breath. “That’s what worries me.”</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>A little while later, Thomas finds Minho sitting on the ground with Newt, Chuck, and Frypan. They all look like they’re waiting for the world to end.</p><p>“Hey, Tommy,” Newt says as Thomas wedges himself in between Newt and Chuck, directly across from Minho.</p><p>Thomas claps a hand to Chuck’s shoulder. “I’m glad to see you guys all made it here.”</p><p>Frypan lets out a bark of laughter. “Same back at ya. You and your sis have some fun bonding time?”</p><p>Thomas snorts. “Not really. It wasn’t exactly <em>fun</em>.”</p><p>Chuck looks over at that. “What happened? Minho told us about Teresa’s warning, but… it looked real.”</p><p>“It felt real,” Thomas admits. He hesitates at first, debating with himself about whether to share what happened, but he knows he needs to tell them everything. He sucks in a deep breath and recounts all the details – from getting captured by Group B, the conversations he had with Harriet and Sonya, convincing them to let him live, to following Teresa into the forest after believing the act was over, only to be blindsided by Aris and Teresa working together and getting thrown into the gas chamber.</p><p>By the very end, Minho is practically vibrating with anger. “And you <em>forgave</em> that witch?” He looks over to where Teresa is sitting on the ground with Aris, the two of them slightly apart from the main groups. “I won’t. Whatever those shuck WICKED people want to do, fine by me. Whatever you want to do, fine by me. But I don’t trust her, I don’t trust Aris, and I don’t like either of them.”</p><p>“No,” Thomas says immediately. “I haven’t forgiven her. But we’re all in the same boat right now. Doesn’t mean I need to like her.”</p><p>Minho harrumphs, obviously not liking the situation but agreeing nonetheless. </p><p>Newt seems to have considered Thomas’ story more deeply. “All that planning just to make you feel <em>betrayed?</em> Why would WICKED want that?”</p><p>“Your guess is as good as mine, dude,” Thomas says.</p><p>“If they wanted you to feel betrayed, why didn’t they make Minho betray you?” Chuck wonders. </p><p>“What the hell, Chuck?” Minho exclaims, affronted. </p><p>“No, it makes sense,” Newt says, sounding thoughtful. “If they wanted Thomas to feel betrayed, why would they use Teresa, a girl he’s only known a few weeks?”</p><p>“Because she’s Thomas’ sister?” Frypan suggests. </p><p>“Could be that,” Newt contemplates. </p><p>“Or Minho is supposed to feel as betrayed as Thomas,” Chuck says. “Like a two for one package deal – hurt Thomas, piss off Minho.” Minho glares at Chuck, but Chuck just shrugs at him unashamedly. “You have to admit it makes sense.”</p><p>“We already all hate WICKED,” Minho says. “They didn’t <em>need</em> to take it that far.” </p><p>“No use talking about it when we don’t have all the answers,” Thomas says, tired of the speculation. “How about you guys? How’d you guys make it here?”</p><p>Chuck, Newt, and Frypan all look over to Minho to tell the story. </p><p>“We found a path through the mountains,” Minho starts dutifully. “Had to fight through some Cranks that were camping out in a cave, but other than that, we made it here alright.”</p><p>“Really?” Frypan asks with a raised eyebrow. </p><p>“What?” Minho says defensively. </p><p>“You’re not gonna include the fact that–”</p><p>“Hey, he really wasn’t that bad until we got here and saw that Thomas wasn’t with Group B,” Newt says. </p><p>Chuck snickers from beside Thomas, leaning in to say, “He lost his <em>klunk</em>.”</p><p>Minho scoffs, leaning back so his upper body is propped up by his hands. “I’d like to see how <em>you</em> guys would react if it was the love of <em>your</em> life that had their life threatened, like, five times in the past two weeks.”</p><p>Thomas kicks his leg over at Minho, just managing to reach his foot. He puts on his best <em>aw shucks</em> face and says, “I’m the love of your life?”</p><p>Minho nudges his foot against Thomas’, smirking. “Yeah, don’t let it get to your head, though.”</p><p>“Ugh,” Frypan says, looking between the two of them and catching the lovesick expression on Thomas’ face. “Too late.”</p><p>“Hey, whoa,” Newt says, and his hand flies out to smack Minho’s upper arm.</p><p>Minho’s eyes widen, mouth parting. “What the shuck is that?” he shouts. He’s on his feet in a flash, pointing at a spot over Thomas’ shoulder.</p><p>Thomas turns to look as he stands up, alarm igniting inside him. The terror on Minho’s face had been unmistakable.</p><p>About thirty feet from their group, a large section of the desert ground is… <em>opening. </em>A perfect square – maybe fifteen feet wide – pivots on a diagonal axis to reveal whatever lies beneath. The tearing and screeching of metal are barely audible over the roar of the wind around them. Soon, the rotating square has fully flipped, and where once had been desert ground, there is now a section of black material with an odd shaped object sitting on top of it.</p><p>It’s oblong and white with rounded edges. Thomas had seen something like it before on the day they escaped the Maze, in the chamber where the Griever Hole led. Thomas hadn’t paid them much mind – he had been more focused on getting the code into the computer terminal, and then fighting off the Griever that had plopped in after them. But in the back of his mind, he knows what they were probably used for – a place for the Grievers to go when they weren’t hunting humans in the Maze.</p><p>“Oh my god,” he hears from beside him; he turns to see Chuck looking over his shoulder – all around where the teenagers are standing, the desert is tipping away to reveal more of the coffinlike structures. They surround the frightened girls and boys completely, forcing them into a tighter circle.</p><p>This reminds Thomas of when the Gladers had taken their last stand in the Maze, surrounded by Grievers on all sides, and Alby had sacrificed himself – but it had been for nothing. That day had been a bloodbath, and Thomas is going to do everything in his power to make it so the same doesn’t happen here today.</p><p>They’re going to have to fight, he knows it.</p><p>Blindly, he reaches out for Minho, lacing their fingers together and clutching tight. <em>Be safe.</em></p><p>Minho squeezes back just as hard. <em>You too.</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>~||~</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Thomas stares at the grotesque monster that WICKED has managed to create this time.</p><p>It’s vaguely human shaped, with legs and arms, but its entire body is just a fleshy mass, fingers and toes completely deformed. It has a head, but no face, or ears, or hair. Just a crown of glowing orange lumps that look like lightbulbs. The lightbulb-looking growths protrude from its elbows and knees, some on its legs, torso, and arms.</p><p>There’s maybe about forty of them, and they are really, truly, <em>disgusting.</em></p><p><em>I think I would have preferred the Grievers, </em>Teresa says in his mind. On some level, Thomas can’t help but agree. At least he knew the Grievers’ fighting style, all the different types of mechanical arms that it could spout – rotating blades, sharp claws, serrated knives. This monster is completely unknown.</p><p>As if they can hear his thoughts, the creatures all raise their arms until they’re pointing to the sky. Then, all at once, thin blades shoot out of their stubby fingers, their toes, their shoulders. The lightning flashing overhead glitters over the surface, sharp and gleaming silver. Thomas can feel more than hear a moaning sound emanating from them over the roar of the wind, and yeah. Thomas definitely would have preferred the Grievers.</p><p>Minho turns quickly to the still-gaping crowd of teenagers. “There’s about one for each of us! Grab whatever you got for a weapon!”</p><p>Chuck presses a long-bladed knife into Thomas’ hand, having already procured a rusty machete and a dagger, one in each hand. Thomas doesn’t know where he had those hiding away, but there’s no time to ask – the creatures are already making their way forward, stumbling at first but gaining speed and agility the closer they get.</p><p>Just as Thomas starts to think that it’s a silly idea to wait for monsters to get closer, Minho yells, “Now! Charge them!”</p><p>A slew of thoughts fill Thomas’ mind in that instant. Worry for Minho, for Chuck, for Newt. Worry for Brenda and Jorge, even – they’ve come all this way for a cure, and now they might die at the hand of these vicious creatures. They didn’t sign up for this. None of them signed up for this.</p><p>He thinks of everything the Gladers have gone through to get to this point – waking up in the Box, surviving as best they could in the Maze, finally escaping through the Griever Hole. He thinks of all the lives lost just for them to be right back where they started – fighting a biotech army sent by WICKED in a desperate final stand. He wonders what it all means, whether it’s worth it trying to survive anymore.</p><p>Something like a movie reel flashes through his brain, moving pictures and pieces of memory from the Glade – Newt dancing circles around the bonfire one night, Alby watching him with stars in his eyes. Chuck laughing at a terrible, terrible joke Frypan made, so hard that milk comes out of his nose. Minho looking up at Thomas from underneath his eyelashes, almost shy as he holds out a plate of food he made himself – <em>I only had a little bit of help from Frypan, I swear</em> – mouth forming the words <em>happy anniversary</em>.</p><p>And that does it. Snaps him out of the nanosecond of doubt and fear. He knows who he has to fight for.</p><p>Screaming at the top of his lungs, Thomas raises his huge knife above his head with both hands, rushing forward to face off against the monster. Chuck and Minho beside him are also charging, but Thomas forces his attention to the creature ahead of him. If he can’t focus on his own assignment, worrying about the others won’t amount to anything.</p><p>He closes in. Fifteen feet. Ten feet. Five. The creature has stopped advancing, the shining orange lights embedded in its body pulsing and fading, pulsing and fading, as if it has a heartbeat in there somewhere. At least it doesn’t have a face – that goes a long way to convince Thomas that it’s nothing but a man-made weapon that wants him dead.</p><p>At the last possible moment, Thomas drops to slide across the dusty ground on his knees, swinging the knife behind him and around to slam into the creature’s leg in a two-handed thrust. It cuts through a couple inches of flesh before clanking against something, hard enough to send a jolt shooting up through arms.</p><p>The skeleton of this thing must be made of metal. It’s definitely a machine, then.</p><p>Thomas ducks and rolls away from the monster before it can shove its blades down into his head. He springs up a few feet away, slicing at its neck from behind.</p><p>No blood comes from the wound. How is he supposed to kill this thing?</p><p>All around him, the teenagers are fighting the monsters. There’s Minho, jabbing and stabbing with knives in both hands, the monster actually taking steps backwards, away from him. Thomas feels a rush of pride before looking over at the others. Newt is scrambling across the ground, one of the creatures lumbering towards him, obviously injured. Chuck cuts into Newt’s monster from behind, distracting it enough for Newt to climb to his feet and resume the fight. Teresa, across the way, is jumping and dodging her foe, and instead of slicing at it, she’s poking the creature with the butt of her spear.</p><p>Why is she doing that?</p><p>He sees the orange light on the side of the monster’s leg flicker and eventually blink out as she viciously digs into it with her dagger. As Teresa pulls the blade out, stepping back, he sees how the monster has faltered for a second before resuming its advance towards her.</p><p>The bulbs. They must be somehow connected to the monster’s life force. Thomas <em>knew </em>they looked like a heartbeat.</p><p>Thomas changes his strategy entirely. Instead of the brutal attack he had planned, he remains on the defensive, only diving forward in instances where he can burst the lights, causing them to explode in a spray of fireworks. With each one he destroys, the monster pauses and seems to recalibrate before pushing forward once more. Thomas takes a few hits and cuts to his arms and legs, but nothing too serious.</p><p>He’s maybe three fourths of his way through all the lights when he hears a cry from beside him, loud enough to be heard over the wind and the rumble of thunder from above them.</p><p><em>Minho</em>.</p><p>Thomas looks over to see Minho stumbling backwards, not fast enough to evade the three blades that slice down the length of his thigh. The parallel gashes can be seen through the ripped holes in his pants, blood soaking the material immediately.</p><p>Before Thomas can react, there’s movement in the corner of his eye, and he ducks out and away from the swinging arm of his own monster. Deep, raw anger claws its way to the surface, manifesting in an unholy howl of rage that rips its way out of him. Whatever lingering fear he may have felt evaporates in the air along with the scream.</p><p>Thomas launches his attack, quick and twice as vicious as before, popping the last remaining bulbs with brutal efficiency. As the last one flares and sputters, finally blinking out, the monster falls, crumpling to the ground in a massive heap of flesh and metal.</p><p>He doesn’t have any time to feel victorious, he’s already rushing over to where Minho is back on the offensive, advancing on the creature with a deadly look in his eyes. Together, Thomas and Minho cut down the monster, working together effectively, bursting the orange growths until it slumps to the ground with a dying moan. They stand together above the twitching monster, chests heaving.</p><p>The reprieve isn’t much – all of a sudden, a flash of light explodes behind them, spraying earth in all directions.</p><p>Lightning. The storm has finally broken. Rain sluices down, soaking Thomas immediately, right down to the bone.</p><p>Thomas looks back at the rest of the Gladers and Group B. Newt is helping a girl to her feet, and Chuck and Brenda are just finishing off the last creature as another lightning strike hits. As the white afterimage clears from his vision, Thomas can see that not everyone has survived the monstrous attack – one of the Gladers and three girls lay unmoving on the desert, injuries riddling their bodies.</p><p>Thomas feels an immense sadness. They had made it so far, just for them to die right before they made it to safety.</p><p>He forces the crippling feelings back and away, turning to Minho. “We need shelter!” he yells.</p><p>“The pods!” Minho shouts over the cracks and booms of the storm raging above them. “Everyone get in the pods!”</p><p>Minho grabs Thomas by the arm, pulling him to the pod nearest them. Thomas stumbles over loose earth, but Minho’s grip holds fast, keeping him on his feet. They reach the structure just as jagged bolts of electricity zigzag down from the sky all around them, dirt flying everywhere. The stench emanating from the pod is almost unbearable, and there’s a few inches of rain that have pooled in the bottom.</p><p>“Hurry!” Thomas yells, shoving Minho up and into the odd structure, Minho turning around and heaving Thomas in after him. They both reach up and over to the lid of the pod, bracing their midsections on the lip of the bottom half as they pull the other half up and over. Chuck and Brenda come racing up just before the lid slots closed.</p><p>“Come on!” Minho shouts through the opening, and then both Chuck and Brenda are climbing in after them.</p><p>“Where’s Jorge?” Brenda cries. “I haven’t seen him!” Thomas knows he isn’t dead, didn’t see him lying on the battleground. Thomas looks over to the other pods, and can just see him ducking into one across from them with Newt and Frypan and another girl from Group B, quickly obscured by the bolt of lightning that flashes between them.</p><p>“He’s safe! Just get in!”</p><p>Once they’re all situated, Thomas and Minho sitting across from Brenda and Chuck, they slam the lid closed. The storm rages on, the wind howling, rain thrumming against the roof of their makeshift shelter.</p><p>“There’s ten minutes left,” Minho says, wincing as a flash of lightning strikes the ground next to the pod, the structure shuddering ominously. “You think this’ll hold?”</p><p>“Climbing in here was <em>your </em>idea, buddy,” Brenda says hotly.</p><p>“Did you have a better solution? We were going to get fried to a crisp out there!”</p><p>“Hey,” Thomas puts a hand on Minho’s knee, looking over to Brenda. “It’s going to be okay. We just need to wait it out.”</p><p>“Maybe these shuck squares of land will spin back around and drop us in a nice, comfy room-” Chuck cuts off with a yelp as a crash comes from above, the loudest thing Thomas has ever heard, ear-splitting and terrible. The bolt of electricity that hit their pod has left a perfectly round hole in the roof, a sliver of light shining through. Chuck stares at the small opening. “Or not.”</p><p>“Seven minutes,” Thomas says.</p><p>Flashes light up the sky through the hole, rain pounding, wind whipping. The grit kicked up from the ground pings against the outside of the pod, leaving a high-pitched ringing sound in their ears.</p><p>“Is your leg okay?” Thomas asks, reaching out for the gashes that mar Minho’s upper thigh.</p><p>Minho intercepts Thomas’ hands before they find his leg, folding them into his own. “It’s fine. They’re not too deep, I won’t bleed out. Those shuck blades buggin’ <em>hurt, </em>though. Jeez.”</p><p>For a moment, it’s quiet in the pod. The storm rages on outside.</p><p>Minho nudges Thomas slightly, and Thomas looks up to see Minho jut his chin out over to Chuck and Brenda. Thomas follows the gesture, and in the faint light, partially obscured by shadow, he can see that the teenagers across from them are holding hands, both with a white-knuckled grip. Minho’s brow is raised when Thomas glances back at him, and Thomas just rolls his eyes, fighting back a smile.</p><p>“Four minutes.”</p><p>“I thought this would be different,” Brenda says. “We’d walk into the Safe Haven, you’d convince them to give me and Jorge the cure, and we’d all live happily ever after.”</p><p>“Happily ever afters don’t exist when WICKED is involved,” Chuck says grimly.</p><p>“Ouch, Chuck,” Thomas says.</p><p>“What, you think you and Minho are living a happily ever after?” Chuck scoffs. “You think any of us are? They used your sister to <em>throw you in a gas chamber</em>. You thought you were going to <em>die</em>.”</p><p>“They did <em>what?</em>” Brenda asks, her gaze whipping over to Thomas.</p><p>Thomas just looks flatly over to Chuck and Brenda. “There has to be a reason for all this,” he says, but the words sound empty to even his own ears.</p><p>“Can everyone stop being so depressing?” Minho says. “Shuck. I thought <em>I </em>was dark.”</p><p>Another boom and crack shake the pod, widening the split in the ceiling even further. Rain rushes in, splashing all over Chuck and Brenda.</p><p>“We’re not going to last much longer no matter what happens!” Brenda shouts. “It’s almost worse sitting here waiting for it!”</p><p>“There’s two minutes left!” Thomas yells back. “Just hold on!”</p><p>A sound starts up outside. Faint at first, barely discernible over the noise of the storm. A humming, deep and low. It grows in volume, seems to vibrate through Thomas’ whole body.</p><p>“What <em>is</em> that?” Chuck asks.</p><p>“No idea,” Thomas answers. “But based on our day, it can’t be anything good. We just have to last another minute or so.”</p><p>The sound gets louder and deeper, overwhelming the thunder and rain now. The walls of the pod shake uncontrollably, enough that Thomas worries about the pod rolling off its stand and taking the four of them with it. The rushing wind outside somehow sounds different from what he’s been hearing all day – <em>powerful</em>, almost… artificial.</p><p>“There’s thirty seconds left,” Thomas announces, suddenly having a change of heart. “I think we’re missing something. I… I think we should look.”</p><p>“What?” Chuck says.</p><p>“We need to see what’s making that sound. Come on, help me open this back up.”</p><p>“He’s right,” Minho says, and he braces his hands to help Thomas push. Brenda copies them, and soon Chuck joins.</p><p>On three, they push the ceiling of the pod up and away from them – their combined strength ends up being way too much. The lid of the coffinlike structure goes crashing down to the ground, leaving the pod fully open. Rain pelts down at them horizontally, captured by the wind.</p><p>Thomas leans against the edge of the pod and gapes at what hovers about thirty feet in the air above them, lowering rapidly to land. It’s the same ship that had saved Thomas after he’d been shot. The Berg.</p><p>“Time’s up,” Minho says. “Guess that’s our Safe Haven.”</p><p>The Berg touches down with claw-like landing gear, and a huge cargo door begins to grind open.</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>They have to fight through more of the lightbulb monsters that WICKED had created. Among the forty or so teenagers that are left, they make quick work of dispatching the dozen creatures back to whatever hell they belong in.</p><p>Even as the last bulb fizzles out and the monsters lay dead, the Berg’s thrusters ignite, blue flames licking against wet desert. It’s still twenty feet away.</p><p>“Hurry!” Thomas yells. “It’s leaving!”</p><p>Before the last word is even out of his mouth, Minho’s grabbing at Thomas’ arm and hauling him forward.</p><p>The rain makes it hard for Thomas to find traction against the muddy ground – he slips twice, falls once. Minho gets a fistful of the back of Thomas’ shirt, pushing him towards the ship.</p><p>Thomas hears the crack of thunder behind him, sees a flash of lightning fill the sky. Another scream. The others are right beside him, Newt running as best he can with his limp, Chuck eyeing him to make sure he doesn’t fall. Brenda has Jorge’s arm around her shoulders and is helping him towards the ship. Jorge winces with every step, his calf bleeding sluggishly.</p><p>The Berg has made it three feet off the ground by the time Thomas makes it there. A couple of Gladers and three girls had gotten in first, reaching back to help in any newcomers. Minho and Thomas act as gatekeepers, pushing people up and in as they finally reach the ship. At the last possible moment, once everyone is safely in, Thomas and Minho grab hold of the edge of the Berg as it rises fully into the air.</p><p>Aris is the first one to reach Minho, and he plants his butt and grabs Minho’s hand, hauling him inside. Chuck slides forward on his stomach to help Thomas, but the metal of the cargo door is wet and slick; the only thing that stops him from taking a nose dive out of the Berg is the quick hold Brenda gets on his leg, gripping his ankle tight. Teresa manages to grasp Chuck’s other leg, and Chuck, now anchored, starts pulling Thomas up. With their help, Thomas is able to get his stomach on the platform – from there it’s easy. He crawls further in, collapsing next to Minho, pulling in breaths so big they almost hurt.</p><p>The relief he feels is immense. They’re okay. They made it.</p><p>“Who’re these people?”</p><p>Thomas jerks up at the shout, the respite he’d been feeling evaporating immediately. It’s a man in black tactical gear with short red hair, and he’s pointing a gun straight at Brenda and Jorge.</p><p>“Somebody answer me!”</p><p>Thomas speaks up before anybody else has the chance to. “They helped us get through the city – we wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for them.”</p><p>The man looks at him, flabbergasted. “You… <em>picked them up </em>along the way?”</p><p>Thomas nods, not liking where this is going. “We made a deal with them. Promised they’d get the cure too. We still have fewer people than what we started with.”</p><p>“Doesn’t matter,” the agent says. “We didn’t say you could bring <em>civilians</em>.”</p><p>“You didn’t say we <em>couldn’t </em>bring civilians,” Chuck speaks up. Thomas notices that he’s shuffled in front of Brenda and Jorge both, shielding them from any wayward bullets while the agent has been distracted with Thomas. “What happened to the ‘<em>there are no rules’</em> rule?”</p><p>The Berg climbs higher and higher until Thomas can’t even see the horizon anymore. Thomas does a double take – the back of the Berg is still open. Anyone could go toppling out of it with one wrong jerk of the pilot’s steering wheel.</p><p>Thomas gets to his feet anyway. “You told us to get here, so we did what we had to do.”</p><p>The agent looks between Chuck, Jorge, and Brenda, before finally settling back on Thomas. “Sometimes I forget how little you people understand what’s actually going on. Fine. You can keep one of em’. The other goes.”</p><p>Thomas just stares at the man. “What?”</p><p>Without warning, the agent slams the butt of the gun into the side of Chuck’s head. A couple of girls who are sitting near him cry out, and Chuck slumps to the side, splayed across the ground, knocked unconscious. The man cocks his gun and rests it against Brenda’s temple, and Thomas hears the whimper that Brenda can’t hold back. </p><p>“We don’t have time for this!” the agent shouts. “Pick one, the other dies.”</p><p>Thomas gapes at the agent. “What? No. Absolutely not.”</p><p>“One!”</p><p>The gun presses closer to Brenda’s head, and tears slip down her cheeks. </p><p>“Two!”</p><p>Thomas doesn’t know what comes over him in that moment. His body seems to act without his permission. </p><p>Between one breath and the next, Thomas has stepped into the agents’ space, forcing the agent’s arm – the one holding the gun – up and to the side, slamming into the wall of the Berg. The gun fires, exploding in a spray of sparks above them. </p><p>Thomas ignores the noise, the sound around him dimming until he can only hear the grunts coming from the agent, both of their breaths. Thomas shifts quickly before he can recover so his body is facing the same way as the agent’s. Thomas’ back is an inch away from the other man’s chest, both of his hands gripping the handle of the gun over the agent’s grasp. Thomas throws his head back into the agent’s face in a vicious headbutt, and he can hear the squishy crack of a broken nose. A sharp elbow is sent into the agent’s ribs, then a hard kick to his knee. All of it happens in a second, and it’s enough for the agent to loosen his grip on the gun, and Thomas rips it from his fist. </p><p>He doesn’t know where he learned to do something like that, doesn’t know why the muscle memory of a coordinated, practiced take down manoeuvre has only come to him now, but he’s not going to question it too much, not when people’s lives are on the line. </p><p>Thomas steps away and turns towards the agent, staring at him down the barrel of the gun. Sound rushes back in.</p><p>“<em>No one else dies</em>,” Thomas says ferociously. “If we haven’t done enough to pass your damn Trials, then we’ve failed. It’s over.”</p><p>Surprisingly, the agent looks back at Thomas, a smile growing on his face. For someone with a gun pointed at him, he looks perfectly at ease. He walks backwards a few steps, and as he does, the cargo door of the Berg starts to close. “My name is David,” the man says into the new silence. “You’re right. It’s over. It’s all over.”</p><p>“Yeah, right,” Thomas says, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “We’ve heard that one before. This time we mean it. We’re not going to let you treat us like rats anymore. We’re <em>done</em>.”</p><p>David takes a moment to scan the large cargo hold, maybe to see if the other teenagers agree with him. Thomas doesn’t need to take a look around to see for himself – he knows they do.</p><p>“What you don’t understand,” David begins, “is that everything has and will go according to plan. But you’re right. The Trials are complete. We’re taking you to a place of safety. No more tests, no more lies, no more setups. All we ask is that you listen, once we get there. Once you hear why we put you through this, and why it’s so important that so many of you survived, you’ll understand. I promise you’ll understand.”</p><p>Minho scoffs. “That’s the biggest bunch of klunk I’ve ever heard in my life.”</p><p>“And what about the cure we were promised?” Thomas asks. “For us <em>and</em> Brenda and Jorge. How are we supposed to believe anything you tell us?”</p><p>“Believe what you want for now,” David says. “You’ll get the cure as soon as we get back to headquarters. You can even keep that gun, if you’d like. We’ll give you a bunch more, even. But the fights are over, no trials or tests to refuse. The only thing we ask is that you listen. Just listen. I’m sure you all are at least curious as to what’s behind all this?”</p><p>Thomas wants to scream at the man, doesn’t believe a shuck word that’s coming out of his mouth. He straightens his arm, pointing the gun directly at David, and says as calmly as he can, “No more games.”</p><p>“First sign of trouble,” Minho adds, “we start fighting. If that means we die, then so be it.”</p><p>David smiles again. “You know, that’s exactly what we thought you’d say.” He motions to the back of the Berg with a sweep of his arm. “Shall we?”</p><p>“And what’s next on the bloody agenda?” Newt says.</p><p>“We thought you all would like some hot showers, maybe some food and water. Sleep.” David starts walking around the crowd of Gladers and Group B. “It’s a long flight.”</p><p>Thomas and the others exchange uneasy glances. In the end, some follow, but Thomas stays with Chuck until he wakes up, Minho and Newt joining in his silent vigil.</p><p>He realizes that they have no choice but to continue to follow orders, and he hates WICKED all the more.</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>Thomas tries not to think too hard as the next few hours pass. The Berg is quiet and somber as everyone goes through the motions of the most ordinary of activities. Hot food. Cold drinks. Medical attention. Wonderfully long showers. Fresh clothes.</p><p>Through it all, Thomas recognizes the chance that history may be repeating itself, that they’re all being pacified, slowly led into another shock like the one they had awoken to in the dormitory after being rescued from WICKED’s supposed clutches. But what else are they supposed to do? David and the other agents on staff have done nothing to threaten them, nothing to raise alarm.</p><p>Distantly, Thomas thinks about taking over the ship. There’s over forty of them and only twenty or so WICKED staff – they could easily overpower them. But Thomas doesn’t know how to fly a Berg, doesn’t even know where they’d go. So he sits on one of the couches that run up the middle section of the ship, knowing that they will go wherever WICKED takes them. They’ll listen, then they’ll make their decision.</p><p>Thomas sits with his back against the arm of the couch, legs spread to accommodate Minho sleeping on his chest, completely out cold. There’s a part of him wishing he could also fall asleep, but he knows he’s going to be awake for a while yet.</p><p>Thomas presses a gentle kiss to the top of Minho’s head. They’re okay. They’re both alive, and they made it here together. For now, that’s enough. He repeats it over and over like a mantra in his head.</p><p>Across the way, Teresa catches his eye, and she comes over to sit on the opposite side of the couch, legs tucked up underneath her. Thomas doesn’t appreciate the way she’s cornered him into talking when he physically cannot get up and move without waking Minho.</p><p>“What’re you thinking about?” she asks.</p><p>“What am I thinking about? I’m trying not to.” Thomas speaks softly, but he knows that Minho won’t wake up unless he tips him off the couch and onto the floor. And even then, he might not rouse. When Minho is out, he’s <em>out</em>.</p><p>Teresa is quiet for a moment, looking out over the others as they eat, converse, sleep. Chuck is sitting with Brenda and Jorge, Newt chatting with Frypan and a couple of girls from Group B. “Maybe we should just enjoy the peace and quiet for a while.”</p><p>Thomas looks at Teresa. She sits across from him as if nothing has changed between them at all. As if they’re still best friends. He can’t stand it anymore.</p><p>“I hate that you’re acting like nothing happened.”</p><p>Teresa looks down, fiddling with a zipper on her newly acquired pair of pants. “I’m trying to forget it just as much as you are,” she says. “Look, I’m not an idiot. I know that things will never be the same between us again, I already came to terms with that. But I wouldn’t change anything. You’re not dead, and that’s worth it to me. Maybe you’ll forgive me someday.”</p><p>Thomas holds Minho closer, hating Teresa for sounding so reasonable. “All I care about is stopping these people. It’s not right what they’ve done to us. It doesn’t matter how much I was a part of it. It’s wrong.”</p><p>Teresa shifts on the couch, resting her head on the back cushion. It looks lumpy as hell, but she seems to be comfortable. “Come on, Tom. We were both part of this, no matter you going into the Maze early to follow your boy. When they tell us everything – when we remember why we put ourselves through this – we’re going to do whatever they tell us to.”</p><p>Thomas thinks about that for a second, realizing that he can’t possibly disagree more. Maybe one time he felt that way – a <em>very </em>long time ago – but not now, not anymore. Not after everything he’s been through.</p><p>But the last thing he wants to do is discuss this with Teresa, of all people. For a moment, he wishes Minho were awake so he could tell her off and make her leave. Instead, he murmurs, “Maybe you’re right.”</p><p>“When was the last time we slept?” Teresa asks through a yawn. “I swear I don’t remember.”</p><p>Again with the act that everything is okay between them. “I do,” Thomas says cuttingly. “I think it had something to do with you whacking me over the head with a big spear and throwing me into a gas chamber.”</p><p>“I can only say sorry so many times,” Teresa says. She stretches, sinking into the couch, closing her eyes. Thomas <em>really </em>wishes she would sleep somewhere else. “At least <em>you </em>got some rest. I didn’t sleep for one second while you were in there. I think I’ve been awake for forty-eight hours straight.”</p><p>Thomas can’t muster up any sympathy for his sister. “Poor baby.”</p><p>But Teresa is already asleep.</p><p>Thomas closes his eyes too, and the weight of Minho on his chest is comforting, but sleep doesn’t come until hours later.</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>Thomas wakes up, gets to his feet, blinks.</p><p>He wipes his eyes. Sees nothing but pure white. No shapes, no shadows, no variation, nothing. Just white.</p><p>He feels a flicker of panic before realizing that it must be a dream. A strange dream, but a dream nonetheless. He can feel his body, feel his fingers against his skin, hear his own breathing. Yet he’s surrounded by a complete and seamless world of bright nothing.</p><p>
  <em>Thomas. Tom.</em>
</p><p>A girl’s voice. Has Teresa spoken to him in his dreams before? She must have, she’s doing it right now.</p><p><em>Hey</em>.</p><p><em>Are you… okay? </em>She seemed worried, troubled.</p><p>
  <em>Huh? Yeah, I’m fine. Why?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I just thought you’d be a little surprised right now.</em>
</p><p>Confusion stabs through him. <em>What are you talking about?</em></p><p>
  <em>You’re about to understand more. Very soon now.</em>
</p><p>For the first time, Thomas realizes that the voice isn’t quite right. A girl’s voice, definitely. And it seems familiar. But… this isn’t Teresa.</p><p>
  <em>Tom?</em>
</p><p>He doesn’t answer. Fear creeps into his gut, a toxic, sickening fear.</p><p>
  <em>Tom!</em>
</p><p><em>Who… who are you? </em>he asks finally, terrified of the answer.</p><p>
  <em>It’s me, Tom. It’s Brenda. Things are about to get bad for you.</em>
</p><p>Thomas screams before he knows what he’s doing. He screams and screams and screams until it finally wakes him up.</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>He sits straight up, panting, covered in sweat.</p><p>Just that movement is enough to tell him that everything is wrong, that everything has been taken from him once again.</p><p>Minho. Where’s Minho?</p><p>He’s on the ground, alone in a room. The walls, the ceiling, the floor – everything is white. The floor beneath him is spongy, padded, but comfort is the last thing on his mind right now. The walls around him are tufted, and a bright light shines down at him, a rectangle embedded into the ceiling. Too high for him to reach. When Thomas looks down at himself, he notices that his clothes are all white too – right down to his socks.</p><p>A brown desk sits in the room about a dozen feet in front of him, unassuming. It’s the only thing in the room that isn’t white. Behind it is the door, padded like the flooring and the walls.</p><p>Thomas stares at the exit. Entrance? He doesn’t even bother trying to open it. He knows it’s locked. Knows that no one will answer his calls.</p><p>God, he hopes that Minho is alright.</p><p>Minho isn’t dead. Thomas knows that much. This is just another phase of the Trials. Another test. No way they’d kill Minho after everything they put him through. Put them both through.</p><p><em>Teresa? </em>Thomas calls out. He’d rather not, but he knows that Teresa and Aris are the last connection he has to the outside world, his last hope at getting answers. <em>Can you hear me? Aris? Are you there?</em></p><p>Nothing.</p><p>He hadn’t really expected anything different.</p><p>He stands, walking over to the desk. But about two feet before he gets there, he runs into an invisible wall. A barrier, just like they had encountered back in the dormitory, back when Rat Man came to explain the second phase of the Trials.</p><p>Thomas supposes this isn’t really all that different, then. Except this time, he’s alone. He doesn’t know where the Gladers are, where Chuck or Newt are. Where Minho is.</p><p>All at once, he remembers the warning Brenda gave him. <em>Things are about to get bad for you.</em></p><p>How bad did Brenda consider <em>bad? </em>And how had she communicated with him? How did she know <em>anything? </em>Had she been working with WICKED the entire time? Her and Jorge both? All to get him here?</p><p>Nothing makes<em> sense</em>.</p><p>Thomas forces himself not to panic. Whatever WICKED has planned for him is going to happen, no matter what Thomas does. He is really and truly stuck in this room. He has no way of getting to that door on the other side of the desk.</p><p>He takes a deep breath, walks back towards the corner of the room, sits down and leans into the padded walls. He folds his arms over his knees and rests his head down.</p><p>He waits. Falls asleep.</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Tom? Tom!</em>
</p><p>Thomas startles awake at Teresa’s cry. And this time he knows it’s actually her. <em>Teresa? Where are you?</em></p><p>
  <em>They put us in a dormitory after the Berg landed. We’ve been here a few days, just sitting around doing nothing. Minho’s going crazy. Tom, what happened to you?</em>
</p><p>Teresa is worried, scared even. Thomas knows that for sure. But all he feels is confused. <em>A few days? What–</em></p><p>
  <em>They took you away as soon as the Berg landed. They kept telling us it was too late, that the Flare is already rooted deep inside you. They said you’ve gotten crazy and violent.</em>
</p><p><em>Teresa, I’m fine – tell Minho I’m fine. I’m locked up in this white room, I think it’s just another part of the Trials. But you’ve been there a few </em>days<em>? How long?</em></p><p>
  <em>Tom, it’s been almost a week.</em>
</p><p>A week? Thomas has lost a whole week? How’s that possible? Is Teresa lying to him? Is this just another part of the Trials?</p><p><em>Tom? </em>Teresa calls out to him. <em>What’s going on? I’m really confused</em>.</p><p>Thomas feels a rush of emotion, a burning inside of him that almost brings tears to his eyes. Teresa is his sister – nothing in the world can ever change that. But he had once considered her his best friend. They have gone through so much together.</p><p>It can never be like that again – he will never trust her like he did before. All he feels when he thinks of her now is anger. Anger at what’s been done to him, to Minho, to the other Gladers. To Group B. No one should ever deserve to be treated the way that they have.</p><p>
  <em>Tom! Why aren’t you–</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Teresa. Listen to me.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>That’s what I’m trying to do!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>No, just… listen. Don’t say anything else. Just listen to me.</em>
</p><p>She pauses. <em>Okay</em>. Her voice is small in his mind, scared.</p><p>Thomas can’t control it anymore. Rage pulses through him.</p><p>
  <em>Teresa. Go away.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Tom–</em>
</p><p>
  <em>No. Don’t say another word. Just… leave me alone. You can tell WICKED I’m done playing their games. Tell them I’m done!</em>
</p><p>She waits a few seconds before responding. <em>Okay. Fine. Then I just have one thing left to say to you.</em></p><p>Thomas doesn’t reply, just waits for whatever she wants to tell him.</p><p>
  <em>Tom?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>What?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>WICKED is good.</em>
</p><p>And then she’s gone.</p><p> </p><p>~||~</p><p> </p><p>Thomas doesn’t know how long he sits in the room. Mind devoid of Teresa’s presence, body cold, despite the optimal temperature in his white, padded prison.</p><p>He can’t help but think that at least when the second Trial started, he and Minho had been together. WICKED hadn’t separated them until later on. They were able to puzzle out what was happening <em>together</em>, along with the other Gladers.</p><p>This time, WICKED has taken that from him. Has taken <em>Minho </em>away from him.</p><p>He won’t forgive them for that.</p><p>As he sits in the corner of the room, he resolves that he’s going to do everything in his shuck power to get back to Minho, to get revenge against WICKED for all that they have done to him.</p><p>For now, he’s calm. He knows that WICKED is watching him from somewhere, although he can’t find any cameras or listening devices. That doesn’t fool him. He’s going to act nice and composed while the fury builds within him. Ready to be unleashed.</p><p>WICKED better be ready.</p><p>He’s coming for them.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>*insert obligatory statement about how the third installment is not currently planned but you've got two out of three already so your chances are probably pretty good*</p><p>Please leave a kudos or a comment if you enjoyed, I loved the comments that you all left on the last one!!!</p><p>Feel free to visit my tumblr @theyweretooyoung to ask for updates or just to yell at me in general! I'll yell back :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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